Study Sessions
by Snape's Nightie
Summary: Head Boy Lucius Malfoy and his inappropriate young love, Severus Snape, are having more than their fair share of misadventure. SSLM SLASH fun. NonHBP compliant.
1. Theory

A/N: Warning slytherin flavoured SLASH! There are some very dark Lucius/Severus fics out there so I thought I would start a fluffy one. Well, as fluffy as those two nasty, homicidal future Death Eaters ever get, anyway.

In his final year at Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy was undoubtedly one of the best-looking young men in the world. His chin-length white-blond hair was swept back from his beautiful face and hung shimmering and immaculate, the envy and desire of witches and wizards alike. The blue eyes were captivating, the elegance of movement mesmerising. And for the more practically minded, he was also deliciously wealthy. Finding girlfriends or random shags had never been a problem, in fact, the problem was in keeping the females away. Sometimes they just wouldn't get the hint, the classless trollops.

With such an abundance of interest, Lucius was able to cherry pick the only the finest pureblooded witches with which to amuse himself (though the pureblood rule was occasionally set aside if the creature in question was particularly well-stacked or talented), he had never felt the need to indulge in any experimentation with his own sex. As in any boarding school, all those raging teenage hormones locked up together, it was not uncommon in any of the houses for homosexual soulmating, love affairs, discrete 'arrangements' or drunken experiments to occur, though as a rule, the slytherins tended to keep such matters private, so many of them carrying the responsibilities of making advantageous marriages and continuing illustrious family lines.

It was with a degree of confusion, then, that Lucius found himself indulging in thoughts of an improper nature connected with that dark little freak Snape one Sunday afternoon. Intrigued by an Arabic manuscript he had found locked deep inside a safe in his father's secret study, Lucius had swiped it and brought it to school, hoping to find someone trustworthy to translate it, or at least to find out why it was so secret.

"Snape, you're a bit of an Arab," he had noted arrogantly to the fourteen year old, bent intently over his texts in the empty common room.

Glare.

"You are though, aren't you?"

Glare. Shrug.

"I'm not going to hex you for it. I have a vague idea that your mother was Egyptian."

Glare. Tentative nod.

"Can you read this?" he pushed the 4th year transfiguration textbook aside and set down his father's manuscript, opening it at the front page. Snape gave him a withering look and flicked the manuscript so it was open at the back page.

"Right to left, not left to right like Western script."

"Really? So you can read it?"

The younger boy briefly scanned the page, frowning slightly.

"Mostly. I would need a dictionary to get all of it."

"What does it say?"

The black eyes glinted malevolently at Lucius. He closed the book and shrugged again.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, recognising that look from previous interactions. He reached for his wallet.

"How much do you want?"

"It's a dark text. Illegal, I should think. If I were caught with it…"

"You won't be. I have a private bedroom, you can work there for hours undisturbed. What's it about?"

"Poisons," his eyes were glittering again, "Really _effective_ ones."

Lucius swallowed. Oh, this was perfect. Unusual foreign dark potions, and the little brute would enjoy studying them just as much as Malfoy would.

"How do I know you're telling the truth. I wouldn't be able to tell if you were making it up."

"Not if I brewed them for you."

Lucius hardly dared breathe.

"You can do that? I mean, it is within the capabilities of a fourteen year old wizard?"

Snape shrugged again, and without arrogance, but simply stating a fact, he pointed out,

"I am infinitely superior to the average fourteen year old wizard."

A bargain was struck, and Severus became a frequent visitor to Lucius' room, sprawling on the sumptuous silk bedspread surrounded by his notes, various potions texts and Arabic-English dictionaries both ancient and modern, cigarette in hand. Lucius found his presence conducive to study, which was fortunate as he did not trust the little bugger enough to leave him alone in his bedroom. He would work on his NEWT revision after supper or at weekends, occasionally stopping as Snape revealed a particularly interesting secret from the book, while the slytherin populace had to accept that even their golden prince needed pass his NEWTs at the temporary expense of his social life.

That particular wet Sunday afternoon, Lucius was at his desk as usual, when a particularly tedious goblin rebellion caused his mind to wander and his eyes to drift over to the strange boy on his bed. A skinny, scruffy little thing of good but impoverished Yorkshire wizarding stock. The Snapes had been fair haired for generations until this one broke the mould, but as if to compensate, he grew the largest snapish hooked nose in 300 years. His family had been absolutely delighted, Severus less so.

"Interesting," he murmured to no one, poring intently over a passage in the manuscript.

Putting down his quill, Lucius moved over to the bed and lounged next to him.

"It has to be more interesting that History of Magic. Tell me what it says." Severus took a drag on his cigarette and hummed to himself.

"It's nothing to do with the potion, merely a grammatical point. Modern Arabic is much easier. This text is quite old."

"Tell me," insisted Lucius, realising that he liked the sound of Snape's soft voice, and the way his eyes lit up as something sparked his interest. Their faces were quite close together now so the younger boy could point out a particular sentence, and Lucius found that instead of listening to the words he was saying, he was watching the way his lips moved. With a shiver, he realised he actually wanted to kiss them, and to run his hands through the soft black hair.

What a Malfoy wants, he usually gets. Leaning forward, he gently pushed Severus onto his back and leaned over him, kissing him slowly. Meeting no resistance, he continued, pushing his tongue delicately inside his mouth, tasting smoke and hints of the ginger pudding they had eaten at lunch. They continued lazily for perhaps five minutes, Severus's hand finding its way into Lucius' hair, Lucius' hand finding its way under Severus' shirt. The older boy pulled up finally, his own perplexed half-smile met by one raised black eyebrow.

"So it looks as though the subject _wanted_ to claw out his own eyeballs, but in fact he did not. But I could be mixing up the tenses, and in fact he _went on_ to claw them out. This is where it becomes unclear," Snape continued right where he left off, as though nothing unusual had happened. Lucius was taken aback for a moment, accustomed to girls gibbering out compliments and going starry-eyed after any kind of physical intimacy. He recovered quickly.

"I see what you mean. In this instance, however, I believe the effect of the potion is understood clearly enough. The only way to find out would be carry out a test. On a rat, perhaps."

Snape's eyes glinted again at the prospect of putting theory into practice.

"Do you have a rat?"

Tempted by the reappearance of that charming gleam, Lucius leaned down again and captured Severus' mouth for another slow and deliberate kiss.

"I shall find you one," he murmured against the smooth skin of the boy's throat.

"Better get a few," he advised, tilting his head back to allow the kisses to trail down his neck. "Accidents will happen."


	2. Practice

Malfoys do not creep. They do not lurk in corners, nor do they skulk in shadows. Nevertheless Lucius was going out of his was to remain unobserved – the hood of his cloak pulled low over his face, he waited for a chattering group of hufflepuff brats to pass before crossing the entrance hall as quickly and discreetly as possible, slipping silently down the corridor to the dungeons. He almost collided with a tiny first year slytherin who was tearing blindly in the opposite direction. Recognising the single lock of golden hair which had fallen forwards out of the hood, she took a step backwards in horror.

"Malfoy! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…I didn't see, oh, I'm sorry!"

Lucius sneered, then realised she couldn't see his face, so he tutted loudly instead. Grasping her neatly by the ill-knotted green and silver tie (What was the problem with these kids nowadays? Why were they so perpetually unkempt?) he hissed;

"Find Snape. Tell him to come to my room, immediately. Understand?"

"Sssnape?" she squeaked fearfully.

"You know. Black hair, big nose, worrying glint in his eye."

"Yyes, I know who you mean, Malfoy, but…but…"

Lucius rolled his eyes, imagining Snape's reputation with the younger pupils.

"Oh honestly. Tell him I said he's not to hex you for bothering him. Now, go!"

Twenty minutes later there was a knock at the Head Boy's bedroom door. Lucius removed the layers of wards he had hastily thrown up, and Snape slithered in, went straight over to the carved silver box on the mantel and helped himself to a black Sobranie cigarette.

"Well?" he asked, lighting up with the matching antique silver dragon flamer. Malfoy had his back to him, apparently fascinated by something on his bedside table.

"I'm glad you came, Snape. The kid found you in the end?"

"Impertinent brat. I had to hex her for bothering me." Lucius grinned carefully. Well, he had tried.

"I need your expert help."

"Indeed?"

"They say you have a small stock of potions you have either brewed yourself or liberated from Wycan's store room or the infirmary."

"They do, do they?" Merlin, but Snape was a suspicious little bastard. Good for him, mused Malfoy.

"Would you be able to find a healing cream or potion or something which heals cuts without leaving a trace? That's very important. Absolutely no scarring."

Snape drew deeply on the Russian drag, exhaling a billowing white cloud into the still underground air. He was pondering something, Lucius imagined, from the restricted view he had of the younger boy.

"Show me," said Snape.

"What?" asked Malfoy, turning his face further away. "What do you mean?"  
"Malfoy, I am not a fool. You have sustained some manner of facial injury. You wish me to heal it secretly without disfiguring your legendary beauty. I will need to assess the wound myself in order to select the best remedy. Show me your face."

Damn him to the deepest pit of Hell. Too clever for his own good, the sarcastic weasel. But he was right, unfortunately. If this was going to be fixed properly the amateur potions expert needed to know exactly what he was dealing with.

Lucius lowered his hood self-consciously, revealing four bloody grazes running diagonally down his cheek, three of them about three inches long, the fourth a little shorter. Snape was smirking again.

"Hell hath no fury," he noted.

"What?" demanded Lucius in the warning tone which commanded instant respect from the whole student body, and some of the staff. This fourth year, however, was currently in a position to ignore it, and did so, gleefully.

"Breaking young witches' hearts again?"

Lucius sighed. He really had no business hexing the only person who could be relied upon to extricate him from his embarrassing predicament. And the brat was a terribly useful ally to cultivate, after all. He came clean.

"Rachel Goldstein, the stuck up little bitch. She started making a fuss when I told her I had no intention of breaking off my childhood betrothal to Narcissa, just because we had shared a bit of fun down by the lake. What's her problem? I mean, she must know that I'm totally out of her league," he scowled, then winced at the movement. Snape examined the scars carefully, grinning all the while.

"Well," asked Malfoy quietly, "What's the prognosis?"

"Not as deep as they look. I do not believe they pose any serious problem. I will mix a quick antiseptic too, just to be on the safe side."

"Be quick about it, will you?"

…….

Running his fingers over his cheek, Lucius frowned.

"I can still feel four lines," he complained, despite his intense relief that there were no visual remnants of the scratch.

"Keep applying the lotion every three hours. They will be gone by tomorrow." Only slightly reassured, Lucius took Severus' hand and rubbed the fingertips against his face.

"Are you certain? Can you feel them?" He knew he was being vain and insecure, but he did not want to have to explain to his mother, Narcissa, or any other female who regularly pecked him on the cheek what had caused the injury. He was jolted from his worries by the feel of Snape's lips on his own. Stroking the mended flesh, the younger boy whispered,

"It feels fine to me."

Lucius returned the kiss, which felt strangely more erotic than going all the way with Rachel had. As a rule his favourite sensation was taking a girl's virginity, but absolutely none of his sexual encounters so far had lit such a pleasurable spark as the simple act of kissing Severus.

He pulled the dark boy down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around him, enjoying the little thrills of delight shooting through his body where the two of them touched. Snape's tongue was moistening Malfoy's bottom lip, so he relaxed his mouth slightly, feeling the warm wetness slide inside, exploring gently. Lucius ran his hand up the inside of Severus' shirt, eliciting a small tremor, and moved across to caress a nipple with his thumb. The little purring sounds the younger boy was now making stabbed straight to Lucius' groin, and bypassing his brain completely, his body had flipped Severus beneath him, pulling off the school shirt and pressing their hips together.

The kisses were deep and passionate, peppered with little groans as the delightful friction between their two erections settled into an urgent rhythm. Lucius felt hands tangle wildly in his hair as Severus shuddered violently beneath him and came with a delicious gasp of air stolen out of his own mouth. The eighteen year old was pushed dizzyingly over the edge, and clutched the other body tightly against himself as waves of pleasure coursed through him, blurring his vision and forcing wanton moans from his throat.

Clinging together with closed eyes, their breathing gradually slowed, and conscious thought began to return to Lucius' brain. Oh dear, he grimaced to himself. That was incredible. The best thing he had done in his romantic life so far. The realisation dawned on him with sobering finality. It was not a huge problem really, more of an inconvenience, and he was certain Narcissa Black was enough of a lady to cope with it. So many pure-blooded women were secretly in the same position. Just as long as his father never found out that his only son, and the heir to the Malfoy estate was…was…was gay. He sighed.

"I don't suppose you have a potion to cure this, do you?" he asked, more to himself than to the boy still lying flushed and sleepy beneath him.

"What? Being a poof? No, I've already looked into it." Lucius looked at him sharply.

"You're fourteen years old. How can you know that you're…"

The darker boy shrugged.

"I just do." He summoned a cigarette and the dragon lighter, alternately taking a drag himself and raising his fingers to Malfoy's lips for him to inhale. "And there is definitely no known cure. You have no choice but to get used to it."

Lucius accepted the advice with a sigh, rolling off Severus so they were side by side on the bed. The sight of those long, elegant fingers holding the thin tube up to his lips was already reawakening the electricity inside. Taking the cigarette from him and crushing it into the ashtray on the bedside table, he began gently removing Severus' trousers.

"You know, Severus," he whispered into a pointed, white ear, "I think I'm already getting used to it."


	3. Experimentation

Disclaimer: Oops, forgot the disclaimer again! It all belongs to JKR, of course. If it was mine, I wouldn't be trawling cyberspace from my desk in rainy old London, I would be on a beach drinking mojitos in a bikini. Duh.

The Slytherin dungeons were a labyrinth of disused corridors and dusty little chambers. There were all manner of charms to conceal the hidden doors and secret passages from pupils, but over the years, student lore had ensured that most little serpents knew how to access private areas without alerting any staff. The Bloody Baron actually encouraged this aspect of rule-breaking, believing the largely Griffindor administration in charge of the school for the last century or so to be far too wholesome and coddling for the students' good. They simply refused to teach the children to think independently, he thought miserably, no wonder so many of the old families were abandoning the place in favour of the more progressive Durmstrang. He was pleased to see that despite this deterioration, the latest heir of the De Malfoy dynasty was proving to be as bright and resourceful as his ancestor, the Baron's own contemporary, Lady Matilda. He heaved a wistful sigh at the memory of the ruthless seventeenth century beauty, so cruelly snatched from his grasp by that buffoon Humphrey Prewett-Smith. The imbecile.

When Lucius had asked for a good spot for top secret potion brewing, the Baron was only too happy to lead him down a damp, uneven path, obviously underneath the lake, to a sturdy square room with vaulted ceilings and heavy stone benches. He pointed out two holes in the wall leading to ventilation shafts emerging somewhere in the forest, and noted helpfully that they could make as many mistakes as they liked without attracting attention.

"By the same token, young Sir, the isolation of the chamber will ensure that none will know to come to your assistance in the event of misadventure. The bones of Assumpta Filey did lie here these two hundred years undiscovered." The Baron indicated a skeleton slumped in the corner, an upturned silver cauldron lying nearby.

Lucius swallowed, struggling to maintain his indifferent expression.

"You chose not inform anyone of her whereabouts, Baron?" The ghost wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"The Headmaster of the day was a swollen-headed Ravenclaw of scant imagination. He never saw fit to question me. The maid herself considered speaking to a spirit to be beneath her."

Lucius made a mental note to never offend his house ghost for any reason whatsoever.

…….

Severus was letting a fat white rat run up his left arm, across his neck and back down his right arm. Lucius watched the hypnotic action for a few minutes, enjoying the way the boy flinched ticklishly each time the creature's little claws scampered under his hair and across his bare neck. The potion was simmering quietly in the corner, occasionally spewing up a sludge-coloured bubble which corroded anything it touched. Severus had been unable to decide from the manuscript whether this was to be expected _if_ the fairy wings reacted with the bubotuber pus or _when_ they reacted with it, but either way it did not seem to be a bad thing, so Lucius was content to stand on Bubble Watch with his wand ready to pop them before they did any damage.

"This is a pet rat, Lucius," Snape admonished.

"Is it?" the Head Boy enquired indifferently.

"Wild ones are brown. Someone will be terribly upset this evening."

"I told the ankle-biters to find me four rats, I'm afraid I didn't specify a colour."

Severus smirked evilly, catching the wriggling rodent in both hands.

"What do you think, Assumpta?" he held it up in front of the grinning white skull. "Should we spare the little familiar? Or teach somebody what happens when they fail to take care of their pets?" Lucius was amused to find a sense of humour even more sick than his own.

"You are so nasty!" he couldn't help but exclaiming.

Snape pouted, cuddling the rat against his chest.

"Assumpta does not think so. She always smiles at me." Unable to hold his laughter, Lucius strode over to the younger boy and yanked him into an embrace. He punctuated each adjective with a harsh kiss.

"Severus Snape, you are dark," mwah, "unpleasant," mwah, "ruthless," mwah, "evil," mwah, "rotten to the core," mwah, "and utterly irresistible." He seized the rat and shoved it back into the cage with the others, throwing Severus against the wall and devouring that delicious mouth.

"Mm-umph!" grunted Snape, waving a free arm towards the cauldron.

"Pardon?" asked Malfoy lazily, pulling back with a smirk.

"Bubble!"

Lucius conjured a net above the cauldron to catch the dirty bubbles as they floated out, then set about Severus' neck with his teeth and fingernails, making him twitch and groan against the older boy's body. Finding the child's reactions intensely arousing, Lucius wondered how to proceed. This was so different from being with girls. Before he realised what he was doing, he found himself kneeling in front of Severus, who was regarding him slightly fearfully through dilated eyes, his slender white hands clutching at the wall either side of him. Freezing for a second, Malfoy wondered if he could go through with this – the technical aspects he was familiar with, having been on the receiving end many times, but the implications of actually performing the act on another male were rather sobering.

Looking up, Lucius saw Snape biting his lower lip, unsure of what was happening. His cheeks had flushed again, the unusual sight of that harsh face tinged with rosy pink made up Lucius' mind for him. He began unbuttoning the trousers and swiftly took the hardness into his mouth, before he could change his mind. Severus managed to strangle his gasp of shock, but the trembling in his legs spurred Lucius on to suck and stroke more enthusiastically, and within seconds it was over, the blond boy was left savouring a salty but not unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Snape slid down the wall, still blushing, but now looking rather overwhelmed and embarrassed as he settled on the floor.

"I…sorry. No one has ever… I mean, that was…" he swallowed, lowering his eyes. Lucius was licking the moisture from his lips thoughtfully, deciding he was more than a little pleased with himself. This wasn't so difficult. And it certainly beat revision.

"You lasted longer than me when I got my first one," he confided, grinning. Severus' eyes widened in surprise, before flicking to the corner of Lucius' mouth, where a few drops of the thick liquid had gathered. A hint of potion-brewer's curiosity crept back into the bewildered pink face, but he was still unusually hesitant in his speech.

"What…I mean, how is… how does it taste?"

Lucius smiled and leaned forward to kiss him, allowing the fourteen year old to taste himself inside another's mouth. Severus smacked his lips, contemplatively, before smirking at Malfoy like a naughty child.

"Thank you. That was exquisite," he reached a hand inside the Head Boy's robes. "I must learn how to do that." Lucius nodded violently in agreement, pushing his hips up to meet his touch. Shifting position slightly on the stone floor, his foot brushed against something leaning against the wall next to him. Assumpta's skeleton swayed for a moment, then collapsed with a dry rattle onto the flagstones, the skull rolling away underneath one of the benches. The two boys were on their feet in an instant.

"Ugh," sneered Snape, hastily rearranging his clothing as the moment faded. "Do you think she was watching?"

"I bet the Baron was. Perhaps we should continue this elsewhere," Lucius hissed, noticing for the first time the damp mustiness of the room. There was also a deep whistling sound, which he swore had not been there before. "What's that noise?"

Immediately Severus' eyes snapped to the other side of the room.

"Shit, the potion!"

They rushed over to the cauldron, which was spewing bubbles and steam with a low-pitched moaning, the net Malfoy had set up earlier now full of seething shiny grey globes.

"Stand back," he ordered, taking charge. "I'll vanish them."

"No!" cried Severus, "You can't do that. It's an octarine-based potion. That will only make it worse. We need to…"

Whatever it was they needed to do, they needed to have done it earlier. The bang was deafening, shaking the floor and walls, sending plaster showering from the ceiling and toxic clouds of smoke and bubbles shooting through the dank air. Lucius clapped his hands to his stinging eyes as he tumbled disorientated onto the trembling ground. The metal cage burst open as it fell, sending the rats scurrying away in terror, as he fumbled for his wand and tried to cast a fresh air charm, or an oxygenating spell, or anything to take away the burning in his lungs. Either the room was spinning or his head was, he couldn't tell, but somehow the magic just would not come. His last conscious thoughts were of his lifeless corpse lying undiscovered there for two hundred years, or even worse, an autopsy revealing publicly the scandalous contents of his stomach. Either way, not good. Not good at all.

…….

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! You know they encourage my pervy little mind! x


	4. Results part 1

Lucius was outraged. Someone had the nerve to be dragging him out of bed, bumping him along a very hard floor and yelling at him as they did it. Unimpressed, he vowed silently that this person was going to regret the very day they had been born. He tried to open his eyes, but could only make out fuzzy white shapes. Something was wrong. His chest was hurting and he could feel blood trickling from his nose and down into his mouth, yet rather than looking after him they were hauling him around probably causing even more damage. Come to think of it, he was not even in bed. Honestly, this would not do at all.

"Master Malfoy!" the shout almost split Lucius' head in two.

"What on Earth do you think you're doing! Unhand me at once!" he tried to command, but all his buzzing ears heard was his own voice groaning, "Urrghahamm!"

Now there were two voices, he thought, and a third person was coughing and spluttering behind him, and oddly, a strong draft of fresh air blowing through his hair, before he was dumped unceremoniously onto soft, damp soil.

Interesting, he was outside, dirtying his robes by lying on old leaves and – what was that? Mud? Ugh. The cry of some night creature echoed above him. Merlin's teeth, he was lying on the floor of the Forbidden Forest!

"Naughty ickle stoodents!" cackled a familiar singsong voice next to him. "The Head Boy's blown his own head off! He'll have to be the Headless Boy now! Silly Slytherin shysters popped a pongy poisonous potion."

Oh great. Not him. Not now.

"Peeves!" bellowed a voice he recognised as the Bloody Baron's. "Cease your infernal prattling and help the Moorish child climb out."

Potion? Moorish child? The cauldron! Snape! Lucius forced his eyes open and blinked rapidly, trying to make out the shapes around him, coughing to clear the fog in his throat as he managed to sit up and pay attention. Peeves was pulling Severus out of a narrow stone hole, obviously the entrance to some sort of tunnel. An ancient metal grating, overgrown with tree roots and rotting vegetation had been pulled aside to allow both boys to be dragged to safety. This must be the outlet of one of the ventilation shafts the Baron had shown him.

"Baron?" croaked Lucius weakly.

"Master Malfoy! Though I am delighted to see you healthy, I must chastise you. The sound of the awful combustion did alert me. Young sirs, you might both have been killed!"

Snape was sitting nearby, propped against a tree trunk, choking and trying without success to uncross his watering eyes. Lucius looked him over for a minute and decided that he would probably live.

"Peeves pulled us out?" he asked, toes curling in embarrassment.

"Peeves _did_, Luscious!" Lucius scowled. The poltergeist had not used the nickname since he had been a first year. He struck a classical pose, inflating his weedy chest. "Peevesy is a hero! Luscious and his big-nosed little-friend owe their lives to me!" His remaining months at school were going to be very trying, if he wasn't expelled, that is.

"Does anyone else know? The staff I mean? Did Dumbledore hear the explosion?" The Baron's transparent features formed an unpleasant smirk.

"Events below ground but seldom reach the lofty heights of a Griffindor ear. Great Salazar," he doffed his feathered hat in respect, "Made sure of our privacy."

"Thank you for rescuing us," he murmured quietly, not used to being so deeply indebted to others, even if they were ghosts.

"I confess, I did it for the memory of Lady Matilda de Malfoy," his expression softened into a wistful smile. "Hers was an inquiring spirit, like your own. She once provided me with invaluable assistance in a small family matter."

Fifteen minutes later, the odd cavalcade of a ghost, a poltergeist and an unsteady fourth year being supported by the dishevelled Head Boy began making their way through the forest, any dangerous or hungry beasts apparently kept away by their supernatural guardians. They must be very deep in the forest, Lucius thought, there wasn't so much as a rabbit track to guide them as they picked their way through brambles and sinister patches of mud. Suddenly the hairs stood up on the backs of the humans' necks as a blood-curdling howl sliced through the darkness, echoing all around them.

"A wolfie?" asked Peeves with glee, knowing full well that no mortal predator could do him harm. Severus craned his neck upwards at the unusually bright sky.

"Full moon," he whispered, tightening his grip on Lucius' waist.

"Werewolf?" gasped Lucius in horror. Peeves' grin became even wider. He licked his finger and held it up experimentally.

"Well, my slippery snakes, it's downwind of us. It has probably smelt your smelly scent already, and is on it's way, slavering at the thought of your delicious flesh…"  
"Peeves!" bellowed the Baron. "Enough!" He held up his hand for silence. The sound of rustling and cracking branches way behind them caused Severus to give a little squeak of terror.

"Make haste!" hissed the ghost, "This way! Peeves, help the boys."

They hurtled through the undergrowth as another howl resonated behind them, along with a desperate barking which sounded more like a panicking dog. Lucius did not waste energy thinking about it, as Severus tripped and fell yet again, still disorientated and cross-eyed from the blasted potion. Peeves hauled him up by his collar, thoroughly enjoying himself, giggling at Lucius;

"Oh, isn't this exciting!"

"Not far!" encouraged the Baron, shooting ahead of them towards something they could not see. Lucius didn't dare risk another glance behind. There was more than one pursuer now, he could hear at least three separate hunters, and definitely all gaining on them. The Baron had stopped at a gnarled old oak tree.

"Up! Climb up!" he urged, glancing fearfully behind them at the sound of a much closer howl.

"Can…ah…werewolves climb trees?" panted Lucius, but did as he was told. Peeves yanked Snape into the air by his hair and a sleeve, dumping him into a man-sized hole in the centre of the trunk, hidden in the branches about four yards up.

"The password is 'purity'!" Lucius heard the Baron holler as he clambered in after Snape.

They were inside the trunk now. An indignant squirrel scolded them angrily as they sat tangled untidily around each other, hearts pumping painfully hard. Lucius was confused. Why did they need a password to hide in a tree? Severus was shaking in his arms. After a minute he managed to catch his breath, he raised his head and queried,

"Purity?" At the sound of the password, the floor disappeared and they were falling straight downwards, yelling in shock.

…….

Peeves and the Bloody Baron were confused. The mortals had got to safety through the secret passage just in time. Seconds later, a young werewolf had galloped into the clearing, sniffing at the base of the oak and yipping with disappointment at the loss of his quarry. Unperturbed by the ghost and the poltergeist, he scratched at the trunk until a black dog and a stag with huge antlers arrived shortly afterwards. The dog was keenly alert, despite his lolling tongue and heavy panting, and scoured the clearing with his eyes and nose, apparently searching for something. Not finding it, he relaxed a little, and barked playfully at his companions before gambolling away, hotly pursued by wolf and stag.

"Peeves is no expert on beasties and creatures and things with four legs," the poltergeist addressed the Slytherin ghost conversationally, "But methinks that kind of thing is not normal."

The Baron hated it when Peeves had a point. Absolutely hated it. It seemed his earlier, vulgarly-expressed suspicions about young Malfoy's bedroom preferences had been correct too. It had certainly been interesting to watch. He sniffed disdainfully and fussily rearranged the bloodstained ruff around his neck.

"This is Hogwarts, Peeves. The term 'normal' does not apply here."

…….

It took Lucius and Severus a moment to register that they had stopped falling and landed on something soft. Exhausted, terrified, disorientated, filthy and breathless, they clung to each other without opening their eyes in case the situation had somehow defied all logic and actually managed to get worse. Cautiously, Lucius stretched out a hand and felt a crumpled pile of cotton underneath them, and something smaller and woolly – a Quidditch sock? He opened his eyes. Dirty sheets and pillowcases stretched as far as the eye could see, interspersed with stained shirts and, dear Merlin, underwear! They were in the laundry chute. As if in confirmation, an enormous pair of pyjama trousers floated down and landed on Severus' head. Frowning, the dark boy read the nametape.

"Tiberius Goyle. Urgh!" he flung the article away in disgust.

Lucius started laughing and found he couldn't stop. Wave after wave of hilarity poured out of him, snorts, squeals, hiccups and yelps all releasing the tension of a disastrous evening. Unable to support his shaking limbs any longer, he collapsed backwards, only to find something digging into his neck. Rummaging underneath him, he seized the offending article and held it aloft for examination. A red and black lacy bra was dangling from his fingers.

This proved too much for Severus. He joined in Lucius' hysterics until he went blue in the face and had to be slapped. Wiping his still-crossed eyes he fought to catch his breath.

"Whose is it?" he indicated the ample piece of lingerie. Lucius checked the label and broke into a grin.

"Bellatrix Lucretia Black, 32E." He gave it an experimental sniff before stashing it in a pocket. Expecting some kind of disapproval from the breathless Severus, he was surprised to get a nod of approval.

"You never know when something will come in handy," he noted.

"Exactly my thoughts when I borrowed that bloody illegal poison book from my father," Lucius' face fell suddenly. He stared wide-eyed at Severus, with an expression which suggested that even the momentous events of the day paled into insignificance next to the deep, deep trouble he was now in. "What happened to the book?"

…….

A/N: Thank you reviewers, I'm glad to hear you're enjoying this.

Excessivelyperky: Thanks for the Chaos-Rose recommendation, wow, wow and triple wow! Her stuff is amazing! If anyone hasn't read her Severus/Lucius then you must (unfortunately mine will then be shown up as the hopeless load of old pants it is, but that's my problem, not hers!)

Bluebird: I know, they see everything, the monochrome menaces.


	5. Results part 2

The following morning, Severus and Lucius were up at dawn to search the secret chamber for the book. The words "Father's going to kill me" were zooming round and round Lucius' head, making rational thought more difficult than usual. Dark bags made hollow rings in his face, testament to the alarms and nightmares of yesterday's escapade. Fortunately, on seeing his friend's incompetence, Severus had taken charge of the situation and after a few false starts where his black eyes had still insisted on crossing and making him walk into solid objects, the pair managed to make their way down the twisting corridor to the scene of the previous night's explosion.

The passage was knee-deep in fallen debris and dense patches of acrid smoke hung in the air, making the Slytherins cough and rub their eyes when they got too close. It seemed that the potion had eaten away at anything it touched, leaving huge sections of wall and ceiling all over the floor. Severus picked his way delicately through the heaps of corroding masonry, catching Lucius when he slipped and pitched forward, leaving them both clinging together and covered in dust. Severus gave a rare laugh and plucked a piece of ash from the Head Boy's hair. Lucius grimaced.

"I'm supposed to be the best-looking student in this school, you know. Just look at me!" Snape laughed again and kissed him on the lips.

"I spend a lot of time looking at you," he commented evenly, observing the older boy's face until his eyes crossed again.

"And?" mumbled Lucius dispiritedly, desperate for the sort of shower of compliments his girlfriends insisted on pouring forth to make him feel better. Severus smacked the side of his own head, blinking rapidly several times before he managed to clear his vision.

"You are mean, vain, conceited, arrogant and pompous. You abuse your position and your family connections. Your character is as flawed as can be. But no living being could deny that you are breathtaking beautiful."

Malfoy scowled. That was not the expected answer. He opened his mouth to scold the impudent little swine but closed it again when he realised how much better he was feeling. The air-headed females competed with each other to find the most lavish compliments, all of which inevitably suggested that Lucius was some kind of golden god sent to walk the earth in order to illuminate the dull lives of mortals, which was all very nice to hear, but had never resulted in the rather fuzzy feeling in his stomach which Snape's over-honest analysis had just produced. He had been described as beautiful thousands of times in his life, but suddenly Severus' opinion mattered more than anything else, and he couldn't help the uncharacteristically shy smile which crept across his face.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

Snape snorted.

"You know you are. Everyone tells you so."

"But _you_ think I am?" Malfoy was firmly gripping the younger boy's upper arms now, he didn't understand why, but what Severus thought of him was very, very important. Snape was regarding him with a mixture of concern and vague amusement.

"Of course," he answered.

Lucius felt his body become light and inexplicably floaty. He realised he was beaming like an idiot, so abruptly let go of the fourth year and schooled his face into a businesslike expression, purposefully brushing dirt from his robes as he cleared his throat.

"We need to search this whole area. The book could have been thrown in any direction by the force of the blast."

An hour of searching yielded nothing but a thigh-bone (presumably Assumpta's) and half of one of the brown rats. Lucius flopped down onto a broken piece of desk and hid his face in his hands.

"This is hopeless! I'm going to be disinherited for sure. If anyone finds that book…" Severus slid into Lucius' lap and held his hands, dropping little kisses on each dirty knuckle.

"Firstly, it appears that the book has been destroyed. Consider the heinous damage inflicted upon this solid stone chamber, how could a simple leather-bound vellum manuscript survive? We would have died had we not received assistance. Secondly, should the book have been appropriated by another party, it is unlikely they will understand its significance. Few at this school are able to read Arabic, those who do are unlikely to decipher the ancient cursive script or the vocabulary detailing specific chemical processes. Thirdly, should the book reach the hands of the authorities, there is no way it could be traced back to us. No one knows about this room, no one would be able to tell we were here."

He was right, of course, but Lucius was still worried. He glanced at his watch. They really should make an appearance at breakfast, the fewer suspicions they raised, the better. But the child was looking so adorable straddling him and caressing his fingers in gentle reassurance, he wondered if he was really hungry after all. Not for toast or kippers anyway. He slid one arm around Severus, resting the other hand lightly on his bottom, and pulled him in for a lingering kiss. Severus responded with heartening enthusiasm, making lovely little sounds and stroking the soft Malfoy locks with those elegant white hands.

"Beautiful," murmured Lucius into the kiss. Snape pulled back abruptly.

"What?" he demanded, trying to look stern but being somewhat thwarted by the flush in his cheeks and the moist pinkness of his lips.

"You. You're beautiful," the Head Boy tried to pull him back into the embrace, but he wriggled backwards and stood up angrily.

"Do not be ridiculous," he spat. "I never asked for that. I am not some Hufflepuff female requiring your lying reassurances."

"Severus! I never…"

"No one," Snape was fuming now, "could ever describe me as 'beautiful'. I understand that I am privileged to share intimacy with the most sought-after creature in the school, but I refuse to…" Lucius struggled to his feet and seized him by the wrists. Severus tried to twist free but Malfoy drew him squirming back into his arms.

"You really have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?"

"Let go!" the dark boy hissed. "You…you…!" Lucius could not stifle the chuckle as Snape hooked the back of his knee and sent them both sprawling but was unable to break away before Lucius had rolled over to pin him, helpless, to the filthy floor. With his face flushed and eyes flashing murderously, Lucius thought the boy looked positively delectable.

"Severus, I don't care what Reg Black's misfit baby brother says about you. Or any other idiot. You are right, I have the pick of every girl and many of the boys at Hogwarts. And I choose you. You are beautiful. Unlike most of the philistines in this place, I've studied art, so I know how to _look _at things, and when I look at you, I see a beautiful young man." Snape was still scowling, though he had stopped struggling. He muttered something harsh-sounding in Arabic, which Lucius ignored. He tentatively released one of the thin wrists, and when he failed to received the anticipated slap across the face, carefully brushed a straggly strand of hair out of Severus' eye and kissed his forehead. "And you know I'm not just saying that to get you into bed. We've already spent many happy hours in my bed. Are you questioning my good taste?"

He shook his head sulkily, oblivious to the amazing effect the sight of his pouting bottom lip was having on Lucius' groin area.

"Good. I shall repeat myself, for clarification. Severus Snape, you are beautiful."  
The declaration was met with another vicious, delicious scowl.

They never did make it to breakfast.

…….

Professor Wycan raised the line of mutated shiny green scales where her left eyebrow used to be. School mythology held that she had desperately sought a cure for her disfigurement for the first few months after the dragon placenta accident, but then had grown accustomed to the change, the staff consensus finding it fitting for the head of the serpent house to be thus adorned.

"Five points from Slytherin for lateness, Mr Snape. I expect better from my finest potions student."

"Sorry, Professor," he gasped, hoping that everyone would attribute his breathlessness to having run to class.

"Sit down. Page 101, please."

He ignored the sniggering Griffindors and took his solitary seat at the front of the class. Let the fools titter as much as they liked, Lucius Malfoy had called him beautiful. Him! Severus. Snivellus. The unkempt disaster of a boy who was either ignored or actively disliked by everyone who came across him, children and adults alike. Hah! Exactly what Malfoy was hoping to accomplish with such an outrageous claim, Severus had yet to discover, but he may as well enjoy it. And this morning's alternative breakfast had been well worth the loss of five measly points.

He was scanning his textbook for the ingredients for today's potion with a self-satisfied smirk when he noticed the piece of paper sitting on the vacant seat beside him. He rolled his eyes. Another feeble stream of insults from Potter, no doubt, or some ill-conceived plot to get him into further trouble with Wycan. He ignored it until twenty minutes later when his potion was simmering happily away on the bench, when with a sardonically raised eyebrow he deigned to open the note and almost fainted from shock. No addressee, no signature. Just a single line of unfamiliar handwriting.

"Assumpta isn't smiling at you anymore."

…….

McGonagall was going through past exam papers with her seventh years, and Lucius was rather pleased with his answers. He had done well, considering his mind insisted on reliving the wonderful sensations engendered by Severus' talented mouth that morning. He learned fast, and employed the same student's curiosity which brought him 'O' grades in everything he did. Extra study. Attention to detail. The way he stroked with his fingers whilst his tongue was… Lucius sighed and forced his attention back to his teacher as she leaned over to check his mid-transfiguration magical matter diagram and nodded approvingly.

"Very good, Mr Malfoy. You'll need to label the third stage more accurately, though. Imagine the examiner knows absolutely nothing, even if the result of the process is perfectly obvious to you."  
"Yes, Professor."

"Oh and Mr Malfoy, the Headmaster would like a word with you before lunch."

Lucius clamped down on the instinctive panic, managing to give McMog a winning smile. It was not unusual for Dumbledore to call him into the office for some Head Boy duty or other. The first time it had happened, Lucius had planned a whole alibi and sobbing confession of temporary insanity for whatever the old fool had found out, only to arrive at the study and be asked to give a visiting dignitary's sexy daughter a tour of the school. So there was little trepidation in his step as he headed through the corridors to the gargoyle, even when a school owl delivered a hastily scribbled note.

"Have to speak with you at lunch. Important. S."

Interesting. Perhaps Severus had finally realised how attractive he was and wanted to thank him for pointing this out. Or perhaps he wanted to continue the delicious activity they had started at breakfast, Lucius mused with delight. He schooled his face into a trustworthy expression before knocking on the door and entering the study. Dumbledore beamed at him through his ample beard and a mouthful of lemon drops.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy. Your father was in the area and thought you might like to go for lunch together."  
Shit, shit, shit!

"Good afternoon, Lucius."

"Hello, Father," he smiled and gave a polite nod.

"Professor Dumbledore assures me you've been studying terribly hard for your NEWTs. I am sure you would enjoy a break from school for an hour or so," there was no hint of a question in Malfoy Snr.'s tone, it was an order. "And as I was away for so much of your Christmas holiday, we haven't seen each other properly for a long time."

"Capital!" the Headmaster was beaming, oblivious to any undercurrents in the room. He peered at a bright yellow folder labelled 'Timetables – Seventh Year' on the desk in front of him. "I see that you have a free period after lunch, Mr Malfoy. Plenty of time to enjoy your meal, Sir Icarus, though I advise you to return your son to school in time for Professor Wycan's class at half past two."

"But of course, Headmaster. Lucius has always been so interested in potions." He had placed the emphasis on the word 'potions'. Oh no. Lucius swallowed. Icarus Malfoy could perfectly replicate the maniacal grin of a slavering hyena, his son had observed many times, but Lucius had never before felt quite so much like a limping wildebeest. "The carriage is waiting at the gates."

Father and son exchanged pleasantries for so long on the journey into Hogsmeade, Lucius almost allowed himself to believe he had got away with it. But this was not right. Icarus was not the sort of man to lower himself to eating chicken pie in a provincial pub, merely to enquire about the progress of the Slytherin quidditch team, even though he never tired of reminding his son that he had been a fine chaser and team captain in his youth. Lucius had polished off his rhubarb crumble and was draining the dregs of his second butterbeer when the blow fell.

"An item has gone missing from my private safe," Sir Icarus commented conversationally, his apparently benign gaze not leaving Lucius' face for a second. Lucius swallowed carefully, thanking every living deity he had not choked.

"Oh?"

"Yes."

This interrogation technique was very familiar to Lucius. By giving away very little information, his father would allow his opponent to fill the silences with incriminating nervous babble. Well, Malfoy junior had learned how to play this game from a very young age, when the conversation had begun with nothing more serious than "an item is missing from the biscuit barrel." He was ready to join battle.

"Something valuable?" he asked, matching his father's light tone.

"Immensely."

"Oh dear."

"Quite."

"Might I ask what the item is?" 'Is' not 'was', Lucius was pleased with himself for not slipping. Sir Icarus leaned forwards, to the casual observer merely relaxing lazily after his meal, but the sharp grey eyes were trying to pierce his son's very soul.

"Something irreplaceable. Priceless. A one-off work of ancient genius." Oh shit. He had incinerated the only existing copy of the manuscript in the world. Keep it together. If Icarus found him out, the Malfoy estates would all be bequeathed to the hippogriff sanctuary or whatever and Lucius would have to get a real job. His whole future depended on this conversation. Breathe.

"A work of art, Father? I thought most of those were on loan to the Museum of Magical Culture or on display in the Manor?"

The silence this time lasted so long, Lucius thought he was three years old again, unable to explain why, if he had not touched the aforementioned biscuits, his face and hands came to be liberally smeared in chocolate.

"Not every work of art is aesthetically pleasing, boy," the cryptic reply came at last. Icarus paid the bill and strode out of the pub, leaving Lucius almost crying with relief.

…….

At the end of an exhausting day, Lucius made his way back to his room. Dropping his Italian leather satchel onto the floor he moved over to the window where he noticed an owl perched patiently on the windowsill. Remembering Severus' earlier letter he made a mental note to find the boy and explain why he had not replied. He would also be amused to hear about the run in with this father, no doubt. He tossed the bird an owl treat and settled into a chair to read the note, which, when opened sent a second piece of paper fluttering to the floor. Lucius bent to retrieve it and froze. Not paper, vellum. Arabic script. Torn out of the missing book. With dread he read the only sentence of the accompanying letter.

"Did Daddy's lunch taste as good as Snape's cock?"

…….

A/N: Thank you for all those reviews! Efaristo! What a lovely bunch of people you are! Haven't updated anything in a while as I've been on holiday, and somehow, loitering around Greek islands and ancient temples is not conducive to the writing of angsty fanfics set in a Scottish castle. Or maybe it's just me. Suffice to know that I'm back at work now, as freckly as a Weasley and in need of more escapism x

P.S. Exactly 2 months to go! Yay!


	6. Stir Carefully

Lucius knew that he was in big trouble, but soothed himself with the thought that before long, the blackmailer would be in more trouble than they could ever hope to deal with. Rather than panicking, he merely steeled himself for the arrival of further developments, trusting that the more letters this devious individual wrote, the greater his likelihood of self-incrimination. Or her likelihood. Lucius was a forward-thinking advocate of equality between the sexes. He knew damn well that most females were as conniving, deceitful and thoroughly nasty as your average male. A fleeting image of the Black sisters plotting in the corner of the common room flashed across his brain. Scratch that, women were worse, every time.

He wondered what their mysterious correspondent would demand in exchange for his or her silence. Hopefully, it would be money. Severus could easily whip up some tracking potion to brush onto the coins, preferably one which would land the blackmailer in the hospital wing. Genital warts would be a suitable side-effect, or some kind of permanent disfigurement. Someone was going to get a harsh lesson in the consequences of disrespecting a Malfoy.

He made certain that the casual observer would detect no difference in his bearing or appearance since the threats began – he was determined that the miscreant would not know how afraid he was. Lucius would not even admit it to himself, but he greatly feared his father's reaction to the public discovery of his heir's sexuality. Many leading wizards were raging queers, but in a world where discretion was everything, such matters were deemed _inappropriate for common discussion._

In contrast, Severus was twitchy and nervy and operating on hair-trigger, having already spent most of the week in detention for his newly-developed hex-reflex. By now the entire school had learned that sudden movements or the use of words such as 'hoi!' in the general vicinity of the little freak would earn them a plague of boils at the very least. Dumbledore had taken him aside to ask if he could help him with a chat 'about things' over tea and biscuits. Flitwick had offered to teach him the relaxation charm which helped overwrought NEWT students during their final exams. Wycan had congratulated him loudly in the main Slytherin corridor for having cost the house one hundred and twenty points in five days. Never one for mincing her words, McMog had warned him in no uncertain terms that much more of this disgrrrraceful behaviour would have him out on his ear, Sonny Jim. A grumbling Snape ignored all but Lucius, whose fantasies of imaginative revenge were far more to his taste. And rather arousing, to boot.

It was a pleasant, sunny day, so the monthly prefects' meeting was taking place in the little square of stone benches on the terrace. The Head Boy and Head Girl were supposed to chair proceedings, while the prefects of all houses discussed relevant matters of discipline or whatever the more zealous representatives found to obsess over instead of having a life. That was Malfoy's take on it, at least. Within the first five minutes he had decreed this gathering a total waste of time, as a Hufflepuff girl and a Ravenclaw boy began a vicious disagreement about the confiscatability of sugar quills detected in corridors.

"Dolores, there are no rules against eating sweets in corridors!"

"But if they are taking them to classes, they will be breaking rules very soon, Kingsley! It is pre-emptive prefecting!"

Lucius did not even bother to suppress a yawn. On the other side of the square, the waif-like mousy-haired Griffindor prefect with the bags under his eyes did the same. Obviously, sharing a dormitory with his house's loudest miscreants could take its toll on a delicate person.

"So you are suggesting that we just stand by and do nothing, despite knowing for certain that a felony is about to be committed?" Wah, wah, wah.

The scruffy Griffindor's eyes began to droop. Lucius let his gaze wander onto the gardens below, and was faintly alarmed at the little glimmer of warmth which erupted inside his stomach as he spotted a solitary black-haired figure sitting cross-legged on a bench, poring over a book and making notes in the margins.

Despite the serious trouble they were currently in, he could not imagine a life without Severus. Their shared moments were amusing and sexy interludes in a life which had become almost tedious. After seven years at Hogwarts, school routine held precious little interest for Lucius, and he was itching to escape and begin forging his path in a real world without puny childish limits or curfews. He would be able to meet his young lover in Hogsmeade at night, via one of the secret passages. It was all worked out.

He was reflecting on the usefulness of having such a clever and ruthless protégé completely in his thrall when he noticed one of the bushes behind said protégé's seat quivering ominously. He looked closer. Another bush, slightly to the oblivious student's left was also moving. Malfoy could just make out a tousled dark mop crouching stealthily amidst the privet, apparently muttering while admiring his reflection in a mirror. Lucius scowled, but realised that he should tread carefully. He had to help Severus, but in light of the current climate he could not afford to arouse suspicion of any unnaturally close relationship.

As one, both bushes parted and Snape was hoisted into the air by his ankle, the book tumbling from his lap into a flowerbed. Lucius balled his fists for a second, before finding the perfect way out.

"Prewett," he drawled lazily to the Head Girl, who snapped to attention as though she had been deep in a daydream, one of her hands resting protectively on her lower abdomen. He waved an arm in the vague direction of the debacle in the garden below. "That legendary Griffindor sense of fair play is in operation once again, I see."

"What?" she demanded, leaning over the railing to look.

"Two against one," he muttered, nonchalantly picking his fingernails. She was storming down the stone stairs before he had finished speaking, curly hair and spectacular knockers flying like some kind of teenage ginger Valkyrie. Though not to his taste in so many, many ways, even Lucius had to admire the sight as a perfect example within its genre. The sickly Griffindor scuttled after her with a worried expression.

"James Potter! Sirius Black!" the yell was piercing, and brooked no argument. Looking up from their chatting, reading, snogging and whatnot, everyone in that part of the grounds rushed over to watch what promised to be an amusing and diverting interlude. The Griffindors in question leaped three feet into the air, dropping Severus right on his head with a clunk. Only several generations of Malfoy stiff-upper-lip type breeding meant that no one heard the sympathetic wince. "What on earth do you think you're doing to that boy!" Black recovered first.

"Ah, come on, Molly! It's only Snivellus!" he gave her what he clearly considered to be his most winning smile. It did not appear to be working, as she slammed both hands onto her hips and continued in a voice which was rapidly becoming more of a snarl.

"I don't care who it is! You're both coming to McGonagall's office right now! I've had enough!"

"Molly, old thing," Potter made valiant efforts to drape an arm across her shoulders in a comradely fashion. "You know what these green and silver blighters are like! Deceitful, slippery, nasty little snakes! Every once in a while you have to…"

"You have to _what_ Mr. Potter?" came Professor Wycan's voice from behind him, icy-smooth and dangerously interested. He looked sheepishly between the two irate women, then at the captivated crowds gathering on all sides to witness his moment of ignominy. Wycan raised her scaly eyebrow in a deadly fashion. Ironically, it was Snape who rescued him from the situation by passing out and landing face first onto the slabs with a squelchy crunch. Nearly everyone winced then.

"Mr Malfoy!" called Wycan in a businesslike tone which she was able to employ without damaging her withering eyeballing of Potter and Black. "Whilst I help Mr Snape to the hospital wing, will you assist Miss Prewett in taking these two gentlemen to see their Head of House? A few moments ago she was lounging in a pool of sunlight on the staff-room hearthrug." The Slytherins sniggered. Potter and Black drooped. It was well-known Hogwarts lore that McMog was even more tetchy than usual after spending time in her animagus form. Something to do with hairballs, Lucius speculated.

The unlikely convoy made their way upstairs, the potions mistress hovering a stretchered Severus away to the infirmary once they arrived on the first-floor landing. It was a few moments of silent marching before Lucius noticed a slight figure shadowing him.

"Is there any reason why you are here, Foxglove?" he asked in his most devastatingly sneering tone.

"Lupin," corrected the pale boy. "Er, well, I could go with them if you wanted to, you know, visit Snape." The gallows procession came to an abrupt stop. Four heads turned to stare at him. "I _am_ a prefect," he squeaked.

"You creep!" moaned Black.

"Good idea!" exclaimed Potter, some kind of furtive calculation going on behind his eyes.

"I don't think this is anything to do with you!" snapped Prewett, hand unconsciously on her stomach again. She narrowed her eyes and peered at him. "Or is it?"

"What makes you think I want to accompany Sev… Snape, Mr Rhododendron?" asked Lucius in what he hoped was a casual tone. It was hard to tell with his heart beating so loudly in his mouth. Had the blackmailer already begun to spread rumours?

Lupin looked nervous to be the focus of all this questioning. He began fiddling with a large semi-circular scab on the back of his wrist and addressed Malfoy very quietly.

"Well, he's your friend, isn't he?"

"No," replied Lucius, just a bit too quickly. "Friendship with an unconnected, impoverished fourteen year old would be of no social benefit to a Malfoy," he stated regally. Well, it was true. And hopefully, they would remind any of their gossiping friends of the fact. He conveniently left out the counter-arguments about such a genius being a force to be reckoned with in a few years, or the quiet sexiness which had recently become his drug of choice. Everyone's gaze switched from Lupin to him.

"Tosser," hissed Black and Potter simultaneously.

…….

A/N: Short chapter, sorry, and not much to do with the vague plot. Am still finding it hard to update the pre-HBP fics in light of the new information. So please be nice!

Am so glad to have received the wonderful reviews for this fic! Thank you, and I hope you continue to enjoy! x


	7. Draw a Conclusion

You had to hand it to Potter and Black, they could really play the 'youthful high spirits' card. Dumbledore was lapping it up like cocoa, all that dragon-droppings about getting carried away with inter-house rivalry in anticipation of the quidditch match the following weekend. Lucius caught Prewett's eye as Professor Wycan materialised in the office like a breath of arctic air to jolt all the Griffindor jollity out of the occasion. For a moment he wondered why the Head Girl was pursing her lips and not joining in with her housemates, but the stern look in her eye told him all he needed to know. How could a mere house prefect keep her authority over such troublemakers if even the Headmaster turned a blind eye? 

Dumbledore began to shift awkwardly in his armchair as Wycan enumerated his favourites' misdemeanours in a tone of voice which was not about to be diverted by lemon drops. Lucius watched the spectacle with interest. Here was the great man, squirming under the force of a tongue lashing from one of his staff, looking for all the world like a hen-pecked husband. Interesting. Lucius supposed that even old people had sexual chemistry from time to time. He wondered if they were having a full-blown affair, or just one of those complicated intellectual flings where they gazed longingly into each other's eyes but never debased themselves with physical acts. It was definitely something to be investigated in future. Black and Potter had noticed too, and were now glaring unashamedly at Wycan as they saw their advantage sliding away.

"Desirée," pleaded a wide-eyed Dumbledore, rather pathetically, actually, but to no effect. The green scales of her eyebrow rose to previously unattained heights of sneer.

"Albus," she snorted. "I do hope you are about to distribute a fitting punishment for an unprovoked attack by these two hooligans on a solitary boy, resulting in concussion and a broken nose."

"Unprovoked!" yelled Potter and Black, aghast. "We're talking about Snape!"

"Unprovoked," echoed Lucius evenly. "He was just sitting there, studying. I saw the whole thing."

"Yeah, well, of course he would defend his _boyfriend_, wouldn't he?" hissed Black with a grimace.

"Mr Black! That is enough!" Dumbledore finally decided to claw back some authority. Oh, the irony, though Lucius happily. The first time Black had spoken the truth since arriving in the office, and the old fool reprimands him for it.

…….

Lucius had rather enjoyed seeing the gruesome twosome get their just desserts. Wycan enjoyed intimidating the kiddies, irrespective of the colour of their ties, but upon occasion she would leap spectacularly to the defence of her little snakes like some kind of vengeful ice-goddess. The fact had to be faced, no one else would.

Pushing open the door to the hospital wing, Malfoy smoothed down his hair and straightened his tie – partly for Severus' benefit, partly for the new medi-witch. She was a real knockout, and worth getting knocked-out for, especially in that crisp white uniform. When she first arrived the previous September, illness and injury had swept through the male population of Hogwarts like a Filibuster firework, baffling all but those two models of school-mistress cynicism, Wycan and McMog. After a few days, this lethal meeting of minds had come up with Universal Tonic ™, possibly the worst-tasting potion in the known world, a harmless brew with many unpleasant side effects, such as acne and flatulence, which young Poppy had diligently distributed to her drooling suitors. The plague had swiftly subsided.

Glancing along the wing, Lucius was disappointed not to see her hovering around like an impeccably starched angel, his eyes instead alighting on a much less welcome sight. That malnourished waif was lurking around Severus' bed.

"You! Delphinium!" he called, striding towards them. The boy started, and looked slightly abashed.

"Lupin," he corrected, nervously.

"What are you doing?" he hauled at his collar, pulling him away from the unconscious boy in the bed. "Here to finish what your nasty little friends started?"

"No! I just…I mean, I was…I only wanted to…"

"What?" Lucius glowered at him, suddenly incredibly angry with all Griffindors for daring to harm Severus. He looked so small lying there in all that white linen. Deciding he wanted to redistribute all that pain he was feeling, Lucius shook Lupin like a dusty cloak, making him stagger and clutch the bedside table for support. "Why were you trying to harm him?"

"I w…wasn't," he managed. "I wouldn't. I could never hurt Severus!" His face then went from cadaverous pallor to beet red in the space of two seconds. Lucius let go, stunned by the tone of voice he had used to say 'Severus'. He had just seen the same sheepish, doe-eyed expression on the other side of the school, but the word had been 'Desirée'.

Malfoy regained his composure and drew himself up to his full height. How dare the pathetic little weed be in love with HIS Severus? With as much menacing dignity as he could muster, he looked down his nose at Lupin.

"Get out," he said, lethally. The little Griffindor was not stupid. He scurried away, cheap boots squeaking on the infirmary linoleum.

Sinking down into the chair, Lucius studied Severus properly for the first time. There were the remnants of some bruising on his forehead which would probably fade in an hour or so, swollen eyes, and a huge bandage covering his hooked nose. He would be fine, of course, but it was nevertheless a painful and humiliating experience. Lucius could not resist leaning over to stroke one of those elegant hands. It felt soft and cold, but the touch calmed some of the fury bubbling inside him. Not just anger at Potter and Black, but at Lupin too. A different kind of anger, though. He was familiar with the anger which made him want to devise some cunning scheme to humiliate Potter and Black in public, but oddly, he wanted to tear their frail friend into tiny little pieces with his bare hands, then jump up and down on what was left.

Lucius' free hand slapped onto his own forehead in realisation. How utterly embarrassing. He was jealous.

…….

The following evening, Lucius and Severus were lying side by side on Lucius' bed, both studying. Occasionally, a hand would slide off a textbook and head for a much more interesting destination. After the fourth such romp, Lucius pushed his Potions notes onto the floor and pulled the fourth year under the covers.

"I give up," he grimaced. "You're much more entertaining." Severus grinned carefully. He face was fully healed but slightly tender to the touch, so Lucius was forcing himself to be very gentle. He spooned himself snugly behind Severus, kissing the back of his neck and stroking his throat, as the younger boy purred and wriggled back against him. Pressing himself against the superb little bottom, Lucius sank his teeth into a pale shoulder.

"Mine," he murmured, apropos of nothing.

"Yes," Severus agreed with a gasp.

Dozing gently after a lovely, sexy half hour, Lucius let his mind wander lazily over recent events. They really had to find out who had discovered their relationship, before something untoward occurred. He knew they should be more careful, but he found it almost impossible to consider not spending time with Severus. Snuggling against the warm body he wondered if he was in love with the child. Lucius had never been in love, so it was hard to tell. How did one know? He remembered the soppy expression on Dumbledore's face when he looked at Wycan, wondering whether his face was so readable when he spoke about Severus. No one had mentioned anything, but then, they probably would not dare. The unpleasant memory of that scraggy little Griffindor blushing when he said the word 'Severus' swam unbidden into Lucius' mind. Suddenly he was angry again.

"That Primrose boy fancies you!" he prodded Snape accusingly.

"Ng?" went Snape, not quite awake. "Who?"

"In your year. Griff prefect. Looks like he's got a terminal illness," Lucius decided that the malice was so evident in his tone because he was tired. Normally he would have been able to control it.

"I doubt it," murmured Severus, stroking his chest soothingly. "A wise man once told me that you were the only one in this school capable of finding me attractive."

Lucius froze, half-recalling an earlier conversation.

"I never said that," he scoffed.

"Philistines, I believe was the term you used to describe them all," the dark boy said smoothly.

"Yes, they're all too shallow to recognise beauty, that's what I meant." There was no reply. Lucius wondered why he felt so defensive - another emotion he was unfamiliar with. His brain decided to switch back to being jealous. "I bet he can't wait for me to leave school, then he can have you all to himself."

Severus had decided he was rather enjoying Malfoy's jealousy, so did not deign to reply. Lucius was warming to his theme.

"Yes, he's just biding his time. As soon as I'm out of the way, he'll jump you!"

"I doubt he will ever have the energy for that sort of behaviour. He is incredibly delicate. He spent another day in the hospital wing the other week. The day after our little accident, in fact."

Lucius sat bolt upright, mind whirring with sudden realisation. His eyes glinted and his fingers scraped against the sheets as he ground out some unusual swear words between clenched teeth. Alarmed, Severus scooted away from him.

"Lucius?" he ventured quietly. With some effort, the Head Boy took a deep breath and controlled himself.

"He was also hurt in the explosion," he hissed.

"Lupin?" asked Snape, now really confused. "Why would he have been in the dungeons?"

"His lot are always sneaking around where they shouldn't be! You've said so yourself!" Severus nodded, the light gradually beginning to dawn on him. Lucius went on. "He probably follows you around, like some kind of lovesick puppy. I'll bet anything that Black and Potter know this and do everything they can to degrade you in his eyes, to try and stop the infatuation! That night he saw us going off together and tailed us. We were so wrapped up in the potion and each other we wouldn't have noticed. He gets caught up in the blast so spends a day in the infirmary, then finds the perfect opportunity to scare us into splitting up, thinking that I will not risk my reputation for a schoolboy fling. _He_ sent the notes. That's why there have been no blackmail demands, because he has Griffindor morals and wouldn't consider that to be fair-play!" He finished, folding his arms across his chest with a deadly, triumphant smile.

"But threatening us is hardly fair-play either," suggested Severus, but his voice lacked conviction.

"He's thinks he's in love!" spat Malfoy. "In his twisted little brain, 'all is fair in love…',"

"…and war," Snape finished the quotation in a whisper, chewing on his lower lip as he realised that it all made sense. Lucius defiantly shook back his mane of golden hair and seized his lover possessively by the shoulders.

"And a war is exactly what he's going to get!" he snarled.

…….

A/N: Is Malfoy's theory right? Is Lupin in trouble now? _(Hint: yes…) _Is anyone actually in love with anyone else? Or is it just the hormones? (Do we care?)

Thank you again for a splendiferous crop of reviews! You scrummy-flavoured blesspoppets! This is the only fic I've had a marriage proposal for writing (am still thinking, Bluebird, a girl cannot rush these decisions…).

Icarus Malfoy – I know! Sorry, I didn't intentionally pinch your (most excellent and classy) name. I actually came up with it for my other fic 'Bright Young Things', because Lucius' dad fell to his death after getting too close to Severus – the pivotal body of all my fics, though that's quite twisted because he's definitely of the dark rather than of the light/bright/sun etc. Hope you don't mind! Incidentally, BYT will get an update eventually, it's the hardest one to write. x

All those who asked what a 'tosser' was – sorry, didn't realise it wasn't in common parlance. Is another word for 'wanker' in heavy use in UK during the ' 70s, ie when this is set. 'To toss oneself off' (verb) 'to spank the monkey', 'bash the bishop', 'choke the chicken', 'wrestle the one-eyed snake', 'yank the plank', 'play pocket billiards'….you get the idea.

What a pleasant note to end on. Sigh.


	8. Take Action

There were several sights which Lucius Malfoy did not care to see first thing in the morning. The first was Tiberius Goyle writhing in agony on the floor of the Slytherin common room, the Black sisters hovering dangerously over him, insinuating that worse was yet to come. The second was Peeves, making lewd gestures at him with a carrot as a reminder that his sexuality was already known in certain quarters. The third was his father's photograph on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Unfortunately, before he had even got round to considering what he wanted for breakfast that day, he had already been confronted by all three.

**Daring Robbery at Malfoy Manor!**

**A priceless manuscript has been stolen from the Wiltshire estate of Sir Icarus Malfoy (47, pictured) in a daring raid which has family and Magical Law Enforcement staff baffled. The book, thought to be the only copy of celebrated Arab healer Ibn Butlan's 'Compendium of Poisons' in existence, dates from the mid-eleventh century and is a vital piece of wizarding history. Sir Icarus is offering a substantial reward for…**

Lucius put the paper down nonchalantly. Swallowing carefully, he schooled his face into a passive expression to try and calm his hammering heart. Not good. Oh, not good at all!

A thump and a few indignant shrieks from the Gryffindor table drew his attention and he turned to see those four boys in Severus' year complaining because someone had apparently spat pumpkin juice all over the table. Molly Prewett and another curvy redheaded female were scolding them soundly. Lupin had obviously realised the significance of the book he had stolen just as he began drinking his morning juice, the revolting little whelp. Lucius despaired - not for the first time - at the decline of good manners amongst the younger pupils.

Snape's skinny outline appeared in the doorway of the Great Hall and Lucius answered his wide-eyed stare with a barely-perceptible nod. After accepting commiserations from a few sycophants at the Slytherin table, he gathered up a bundle of toast and left the room as calmly as he could manage.

"Shit, Lucius! What do we do!" squeaked Snape as soon as they reached the sanctuary of the Head-Boy's suite.

"Nothing," sighed Lucius, flopping onto his bed and unwrapping their breakfast. "Here. Have something to eat."  
Snape stared at the toast as though he had been offered Deadly Nightshade and flounced off to steal another of Malfoy's black cigarettes.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" he inhaled so deeply it gave him a coughing fit.

"Severus, relax," munched Lucius, pleased that he sounded a good deal calmer than he felt. "Though this development presents us with certain…unforeseen challenges, shall we say, it also puts the pressure on our evil, thieving blackmailer friend!"

"What? Forget Lupin, your father's going to _kill_ us!" he wailed, leaning against the mantelpiece. Lucius watched him closely, admiring the way he chewed nervously at his fingers. If they could come up with a plan to allay the younger boy's anxiety, those succulent lips could be put to a much more interesting use.

Motivated by that juicy thought, Malfoy summoned a piece of parchment and his best Diricawl quill and cast a most useful spell for masking handwriting, learned after a less scandalous theft from the family library. Snape's eyes grew even wider.

"What are you writing?" he peered over his shoulder, automatically holding the cigarette for the older boy to share. This did nothing to help Lucius' raging libido. He shuddered as he sucked then was forced to shake his head to clear the vivid mental images it engendered.

"Lupin likes to write little notes, does he not?" he asked silkily. "Well, if that's the way he wants to play the game, that's exactly what we'll do. He must know by now that he is in possession of a priceless work of art, not just any old book, and that my father will have every available Magical Law Enforcement operative trying to track it down. He is in more trouble than he ever expected!"

Snape grinned, looking even more sinister than usual with the black ciggie hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

"So we grass him up to the pigs?" he asked, unintentionally arousing Lucius even further with his criminal-underworld vocabulary,learned from Merlin-knew-where. He was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the words Snape was saying, when his body was looking so damned delicious. He made an effort to focus.

"No, that could easily backfire on us. What we need to do, is frighten him so much that he becomes desperate to get rid of the manuscript," he explained. "We cannot say anything which incriminates us." Lucius chewed his lip for a moment before writing a single, concise sentence and showing it to Severus for approval.

Snape cackled aloud and nodded, performing a complicated spell to make the threat appear next time Lupin opened his Charms textbook. Lucius, tired of denying himself, made a swift grab for his little lover but missed and landed in a heap as Snape wandered off to read the paper.

"Severus!" he exclaimed, frustrated. Snape looked up with a frown.

"What are you doing on the floor?" Not waiting for an answer, he became animated at the information in the extended lead article. "This is wonderful background! No wonder I had difficulty reading the text even with the best translation spells! It's so incredibly old! It says that Ibn Butlan's legendary work the 'Taqwim al-sihha', which was a guide to healthy living and is still used by wizards today for its insightful comments on potions ingredients, attracted the attention of a scholarly Italian wizarding family. They were so impressed by his knowledge that they commissioned a companion book to the healthy one, featuring all the poisons known to mankind, purely for academic purposes, which he produced for them as a theoretical text. Only realising years afterwards that such a volume could be lethal in the wrong hands he attempted to destroy the book. He and his associates travelled the world, tracking down and destroying all the copies which had been written out. Unfortunately, this one was so well hidden that it survived."

"Mmm," sighed Lucius, not particularly interested. He had recently become rather bored with the whole idea of brewing rare and ancient poisons. It seemed to cause a great deal of trouble when your average modern toxins would do the job just as well. Snape, however, had an unfortunate thirst for knowledge – one of the many fascinating traits which had attracted the Head Boy to him in the first place, but which was presently distracting him from what Lucius considered to be more important matters.

"But don't you understand? This manuscript is so important, it is the only…mmph!" Not risking another tumble, Lucius immobilised Snape this time before crushing their bodies together and devouring that tobacco-flavoured mouth. He tossed the Prophet aside where is could not distract the young swot and began tearing off their robes.

"And did Ibn Butlan put…mmm…shagging in his healthy book or in with the…ah…poisons?" Lucius teased, licking at Snape's ear until the younger boy squealed.

"Ooh! Do that again, pleeease! Uh…the healthy one! He even t…tells you which foods are good for…ohhhhh, Lucius!" overcome with the intensity of it all, Severus came so hard he blacked out in his lover's arms.

Smirking at his own skill, Malfoy manoeuvred them to the bed and enjoyed a warm cuddle of the unconscious boy's body before reluctantly enervating him and cleaning them both up. Snape gave a disappointed moan.

"We have lessons to go to," Lucius reminded him, using the authoritative tone he reserved for errant first years. "We cannot afford to arouse suspicions."

"May I see you later?" pouted Snape, doing his best to look irresistible. Malfoy forced himself to look away before he reached the point where the urge to thoroughly ravish the brat became uncontrollable.

"Certainly," he nodded solemnly. "Though it may depend on the Geranium kid's reaction to our note!"

"Lupin," corrected Snape automatically.

…….

Remus Lupin was sitting in his favourite spot in the Charms classroom. The seats were arranged in tiers on opposing sides of the room, so one half of the class were facing the other half, with Professor Flitwick strolling up and down the central aisle to make certain that all students were behaving. Inevitably, Slytherin took the left hand side and Gryffindor the right, all the better to throw missiles and make obscene gestures at each other. It also meant that Remus could legitimately spend the next hour staring at Severus Snape.

On Lupin's left, Sirius and James had transfigured their quills into flobberworms and were trying to surreptitiously slime as much of each other's equipment as possible, while Peter giggled and egged them on. Lupin made no move to stop them, despite past experience having proven that any minute now, something cold and oozy would probably be stuffed down his collar as punishment for preferring study to larking about with the lads.

Today, this did not bother him, for today, Snape was looking tastier than he had ever looked before. His black hair was tousled, his robe dishevelled and there was a strangely erotic glint in his impenetrable dark eyes, which was making Lupin shift awkwardly in his seat. Today, his favourite Slytherin was magnificent! Even Sirius would have to admit it, if he looked properly. Fortunately, Flitwick interrupted his increasingly dirty thoughts before anything untoward could happen.

"Let's turn to page 176, shall we?" the tiny wizard rubbed his hands together joyously, as though teaching a bunch of inattentive teenagers was the greatest thrill of his life.

Lupin wiped a stray blob of flobber from the tattered cover of his book and opened it, risking another glance up at the object of his affection. As usual, Snape sat alone, giving Lupin his usual pang of sympathy. His Gryffindor room-mates might be boisterous and adept at misbehaviour, but they were amazingly loyal and stuck by him through thick and thin. It had been two years since they had discovered his terrible affliction, and even now, Lupin could still not quite believe that these glittering alphas did not object to sharing a dorm with a boy who was scruffy and shy for most of the month, then became a deadly dark beast for the rest of it. Such caring people were three in a million. Even his mother had said that the odd detention-by-association was worth it in order to maintain such great allies.

Snape had no such friends, as far as he could tell. Lupin knew that there was no way he could try to get closer to the intriguing young Slytherin without incurring the wrath of his pack. They had been good so far about keeping the dreadful secret, but who knew what hints Sirius could drop if he decided he was bored with being a good little confidant? He shuddered at the thought of what would happen if his lycanthropy became generally known. He would be expelled for sure, once the other parents discovered the danger he posed to their offspring, then he would be left without an education, without a wand and completely ostracised from society. He hoped that James and Sirius never forgot exactly what was at stake. And Peter, too. Everyone was prone to overlooking Peter. In this case he wielded just as much power as the smarter boys.

Lupin reluctantly turned his attention to the chapter he was supposed to be reading, when a scrap of paper magically appeared in the centre of the pages.

He would have been able to cope with the sight of the anonymous note. He would also have been able to cope with the squidgy flobberworm being shoved down the back of his neck. The two sensations occurring simultaneously, however, was too much for him to deal with.

Flitwick leaped three feet in the air when Remus suddenly screamed like a girl and fainted.

"Oh dear!" he exclaimed. "Mr Black, what happened?"

"No idea, Sir!" Sirius chimed, the picture of innocence. When the Charms teacher turned his back, he glared across at Snape, who was cackling as hard as the rest of his house at this entertaining diversion from morning lessons. Snape raised an eyebrow at him impudently. Potter and Pettigrew manhandled their fallen comrade to his feet and set off for the hospital wing, while Black quickly vanished the flobberworm/quill which had been visibly wriggling between his shoulder blades underneath his robe.

Caught up in the excitement of the moment, he never noticed the tiny piece of paper which had frightened his werewolf friend so badly. Lying ignored on the floor, its message was concise but deadly.

_We know your secret._

Snape permitted himself a smirk as Flitwick struggled to regain control of the class. Lucius had played it perfectly. The battle had begun.

AN: Yes, finally managed to update! So, so sorry it's been so long! Thank you for your patience, and thanks for all your generous reviews in the meantime! You're such nice people!

Do you think Lupin really does have the manuscript? Someone's hypothesis in an earlier review was pretty close to the truth, well done!

I have taken some liberties with the wonderful Ibn Butlan, who was one of the greats. The Taqwim al-sihha (various phonetic spellings, translated into latin as the Tacuinum Sanitatis) is a real early medical tome (take a peek! It has some familiar herbalist lore as well as some more odd suggestions!), but the poisons one I made up myself. There are several known compendia of poisons in both Western and Eastern traditions, but I'm afraid I simply didn't have the time to research them properly. I intend no offence by using IB's name.

Take care, love SN x


	9. Vigorous Reactions

Oops. Where does the time go? Thanks for being patient with an unreliable author!

…….

It was stale-mate.

Sirius Black had Snape pinned to the wall while Lucius' wand dug into Pettigrew's throat. The force of the multiple glaring alone should have been enough to ignite the whole castle, but as the third minute of the stand-off approached, the atmosphere remained so icy that no one would have been surprised by the appearance of snowflakes.

The urge to murder the arrogant little misfit was suddenly so overwhelming that Lucius found he lacked the strength to fight it and breathe at the same time. He had been minding his own business, simply walking the corridors looking for younger pupils to frighten or impress, as was his habit at lunchtime, when he had happened upon a fight between the two sworn enemies. The gormless fat boy had been less than useless as a lookout, instead becoming an easy hostage to try and stop Lucius' young paramour coming to any harm at the hands of his foul friend.

"What exactly your problem, Black?" he rasped, yanking Pettigrew's head back by his curly hair, knowing that Gryffindor comradeship would inflict pain by proxy on that disgrace to pureblooded wizadry on seeing his dorm-mate suffer thus.

Unfortunately, the cur had accurately guessed the nature of the relationship between the two Slytherins and kicked Snape with gleeful abandon in both shins, knowing that Malfoy would feel it just as keenly. Snape, never terribly convincing in the role of passive object, swore lavishly in both English and Arabic and had spat with impressive accuracy right in Black's eye before Lucius could say anything too embarrassing. Like "take your Merlin-awful filthy paws off that beautiful creature before I kill you", which was one of the phrases hovering inadvisably on the tip of his tongue.

"My problem?" snarled Black, blinking and shaking his head in an oddly canine manner. "My problem is that your little _girlfriend_ has been attacking my innocent dorm-mate during class."

Snape laughed loudly at the word 'innocent' and Sirius drew back his leg for another kick, but stopped as his prisoner hawked threateningly.

"I see," Malfoy managed to regain a little of his poise. It was annoying that this abomination of a wizardling knew so much about his sex life. He banished the pleasant notion of the unutterably bad things which he would do to Black on the event of him communicating the affair to Malfoy Senior, or anyone else, for that matter. Enjoyable though it was to imagine him suffering, it would be too late to save his own reputation by then. Prevention was always more sensible than revenge, though much less fun. A great deal of caution was required now, if he was to avoid disaster.

"To what are you referring?" he asked politely.

"Snivellus attacked Remus during charms today," said Black, trying to glower. Snape glowered back with much more success, having the kind of face made for malevolence, and possibly a hint of basilisk buried near the roots of his family tree. Sirius, Lucius noted absently, had the kind of rugged face designed for lying to girls.

"Did not!" Severus shot a significant look at the Head Boy, reminding him that the note they sent in response to Lupin's extortion had been scheduled to appear during charms. Obviously, the threat had made some kind of impression on the blackmailer.

"And what exactly did Severus do to Mr Begonia?" asked Lucius. Black scowled, spluttered and turned an unsightly hue of purple.

"I don't know!" he ground out eventually. "But he did something! I know he did! Oily little freak!"

It was the last cheap insult which made Malfoy's decision. It reminded him that he was dealing with a little boy of dubious intelligence, whose simple mindset was better suited to slapstick pranks and kitchen raids than anything truly harmful. The fat lump currently in his own talons was no better; the skinny Geranium kid who had caused all this trouble was in love with Severus and therefore easily dealt with, and Potter - wherever he was lurking today - was so bloody _Gryffindor_ that even a first-year could read his every thought from the opposite end of the Quidditch pitch. Four imbeciles against two of Salazar's finest. It was too easy.

There was a simple rule to follow when outnumbered, Lucius had discovered early on in his school career – divide and conquer. Even the rowdiest angry mob consisted of individuals, each with their particular weak spots and personal agendas. He had reigned supreme over Hogwarts for seven years thanks to that little motto, and intended to do the same with the world at large when he left. Expulsion or schoolboy scandal had a way of following you around in the gossip-rich wizarding society, where reputation was everything. There was no way he would let Black or his cohorts ruin his entire future.

Blackmail was not a very Gryffindor pastime. It was cunning, avaricious and downright dishonest, yet the weedy, inoffensive Chrysanthemum prefect had tried to start his own little racket with the information gleaned from spying on the Slytherins. Smiling nastily, Lucius thought it was high time the Daisy-boy learned that one did not mess with one's elders, betters and overall intellectual superiors. And time for the gang of four to be divided.

"Actually, Black," said Lucius matter-of-factly, "I wrote a note which Severus spelled to appear in your friend's charms textbook. I believe that this is the incident to which you refer." Snape choked.

"You did?" gasped Black and Pettigrew.

"Indeed," replied the Head Boy calmly. "You see, Mr Carnation…"

"Lupin," corrected the three fourth-years tonelessly.

"…has stolen a manuscript of incalculable value from me."

It was difficult to tell who was the more astounded. Black's disbelief had made him sag at the shoulders; the fat kid had gone rigid in Lucius' grip; Snape's dark eyes had gone wide with horror at the apparent betrayal.

"You lying scum!" Black recovered first. Lucius adopted and open and honest posture and took the risk of lowering his wand to lend a false sense of security.

"Would that I were," he shook his head mournfully. "The loss of the only surviving copy of Ibn Butlan's compendium of toxins is as serious a blow to international magical scholarship as to posterity. I fear the authorities will be fervent in their search for it. Your comrade may soon wake up with half of the department of Magical Law Enforcement sitting on the end of his bed, disinclined towards leniency by the fact that he has already defaced the book." He reached into his bag and pulled out the folded vellum page which had been enclosed in the second anonymous note, ignoring a glare from Severus which was probably admonishing him for carrying around evidence on his person, and a squeak of distress from Pettigrew.

Sirius had no clue what he was looking at; this much was obvious from the way he released his captive to squint bemusedly at the sheet, holding it upside-down.

"It's gibberish," he concluded. "Just someone drawing squiggles with a wide-nibbed quill."

"It's Arabic," said Snape witheringly. Black glanced up to study his enemy's face as though seeing him for the first time.

"Merlin, I never noticed!" he exclaimed, a grin forming on his face as a whole new plethora of insults opened up before him. "You're a sand-nigger!" Lucius raised his wand again, levelling it somewhere above Black's crotch.

"More open-mindedness from the house of Golden Heroes?" he smirked. "If I ever hear of you using that expression again I shall inform the Shah brothers immediately." The Gryffindor stopped grinning. Sajid and Tariq Shah followed the traditional model of Slytherin beaters. Tariq, at 6 feet 6 inches tall, was the smallest and the cleverest, actually being able to spell his own name. Sajid had set a school record the previous year for the number of fouls committed in a single match before finally being sent off for attempting to decapitate the referee with his (blunt) bat. Neither was known for his sweet temper or tolerance.

Apparently sobered by the thought of a walloping, Black turned serious.

"Remus is not a thief," he stated. "I don't know why you think he's got your book. He hasn't even been to Malfoy Manor."

Too late, Lucius remembered the newspaper article claiming the manuscript had disappeared from his father's safe and making no mention of it having been at Hogwarts. Infuriatingly, Black picked this up from his expression. "Or maybe the thing wasn't where it was supposed to be?" The smugness returned immediately. "Maybe Little Lord Lucy borrowed it from Daddy but lost it before he could put it back?"

"I promise you, Black," menaced Lucius, mortification turning him incandescent with rage. "You will never get a job in the wizarding world if you dare to repeat this! Your name is already mud within the decent sections of society – a little careful whispering here and there from me and you will never be permitted to marry, nor own property, nor even set foot in any building of magical significance when you grow up."

"Ooh, Lucy, I'm heartbroken," the aggressor shrugged off the threat. "I will be forever miserable that the same set of in-breeds and rich wankers who disowned their eleven year-old flesh and blood based on the decision of a mouldy old hat, will never invite me to their exclusive dinner parties! Boo hoo hoo!"

While Malfoy had reached hitherto unimaginable heights of ire, Snape suddenly acquired a calm and pensive mein, and strolled over to whisper something in his lover's ear.

Peace returned to the beautiful face in a trice. Lucius vowed to devote the rest of his life to worshipping the boy's earth-shattering genius. He smiled benignly at both the irritating Black swine and his fat friend.

"Severus has just reminded me that it is not a serious problem, in any case," Severus broke into a grin of agreement which on any other face would have been charming, but which only served to alarm Black even further. Lucius continued, trotting out the idea which his lover had just concocted. "I had quite forgotten that all Malfoy possessions are treated with a curse which precipitates a particularly slow, agonising death upon any thief holding a stolen item for more than a week."

Pettigrew made a sound like a mouse being seized by an owl.

"Rubbish," Siruis scoffed, though probably not as confidently as he had intended.

Lucius and Severus offered him dual expressions of benevolent condescension.

"How long does Lupin have left to live?" Snape looked at Malfoy's watch, thoroughly enjoying himself now. "About three hours?"

"Three and a half, I'd say," Lucius corrected cheerfully.

"Unless he returns it to a member of the rightful owner's family," added Snape.

"Indeed," nodded Lucius. "For example, by leaving it tucked behind the tapestry in the alcove behind the statue of Abolala the Abysmal Turning his Moustache into a Yeti on the second floor, in one hour's time."

The Gryffindors had got the message, Lucius noted smugly. Even if they doubted their friend's guilt, the wary look on Black's face suggested he would announce this piece of news loudly and publicly, just to be on the safe side. The fat kid was already inching towards the exit.

"Well done!" Lucius whispered as they turned their backs and strode away, buoyant with the joy of victory expertly snatched from the jaws of defeat. A little skilled manipulation had turned the situation completely around and within minutes their aggressor would be on the run, ending the whole miserable episode. He relaxed properly for the first time in days. "That lie about the curse was inspired, Severus! You're so imaginative, so clever. I just love you."

Snape's boots shrieked on the polished floor as he skidded to a halt behind him.

Malfoy stopped too. He swallowed and did not turn around.

"_What?"_ The ability to cram so much poison into a single whispered word was a skill that Snape had honed to perfection. Lucius dared not face what he imagined would be an eviscerating glare from the inhuman black eyes, instead staring straight ahead at nothing and clearing his throat calmly.

"I said that I love you," he repeated. Both boys stayed immobile for a moment before the ringing silence became too much for the eldest. "Didn't you know?" he managed to add, almost mocking in his matter-of-factness.

The boots squeaked again and light footsteps echoed off in the opposite direction, too fast to be a walk, a stalk, a slither, a sidle or anything else but a desperate run.

"Shit," said Lucius.

That wasn't supposed to be the response, was it? One's beloved was supposed to fall swooning with delight into one's arms on hearing the ominous phrase; to invoke the spirit of Springtime, praise the gods of ancient empires, ignite small battalions of firecrackers in the immediate vicinity – or at least attempt some tongue-tied stammering of reciprocation. Nowhere in the great works of literature or in the conquest stories exchanged around the common room fireplace, had the blushing hero/ine just turned tail and buggered off.

Had he made some terrible gaffe? Was there protocol for how and where to say it? Should you look them in the eye? Under cover of darkness? Accompanied with gifts? It seemed there was more to this 'love' business than Lucius had first suspected. He swore again. Sod 'Wingardium Leviosa' and all that nonsense, _this_ was the kind of thing they ought to be teaching at school.

Still, one thing at a time. Hopefully the lost manuscript would soon be recovered and he would escape the wrath of his father – then all he had to worry about was passing his NEWTs and seizing Severus by the scruff of his unwashed neck and shaking him until he responded in a proper and sufficiently grateful manner to Lucius' professed sentiments. Wretched brat.

Wretched, cunning, devious, lying, vicious, Medusa-eyed, perky-bottomed, sexy little brat.

The Head Boy rubbed his temples with resignation. Life had become infinitely more complicated since the beginning of his affair with Snape, but also more fulfilling. There could be no doubt that the boy was worth all this excitement. A political career at the Ministry should be no trouble if he managed to survive teenage love.

…….

AN: Will everything go according to plan? What's the matter with Snape this time? Who will win in the latest episode in the great saga of Gryffindor vs. Slytherin? Will Sirius get away with having called Malfoy 'Lucy'? Do we actually care as long as there is boy-slash?

Thank you for reading, lovely people. Do drop me a line!

(And if 'HJ' is reading – the last chapter of Wartime Distraction is growing longer and longer without actually getting anywhere. Some vicious editing may be required. Not forgotten though!)

x


	10. Tidying the Workspace

"So, Moony, where exactly do your preferences lie?" asked James, leaning over his friend with a very serious expression.

Remus banged his notebook closed, praying that the other boy was too short-sighted to read the doodles adorning all the margins of his History of Magic notes which proclaimed repeatedly that Remy loved Sevvie.

"Girls!" he exclaimed quickly. "I like girls!"

Potter's brow creased in puzzlement.

"Eh?"

Remus swallowed, wishing now that he had paid more attention to whatever James had been blathering about as he gazed in the mirror, instead of the myriad ways in which a letter 's' could be decoratively intertwined with a letter 'r'.

"Yes," mused James, scratching his chin at this revelation. "You do seem to spend a lot of time with girls, now I think about it. They're always asking you which shoes to wear, or bitching about other boys with you. I wonder why that is?"

"No idea," lied Remus smoothly, clutching the incriminating notes so hard his hands began to hurt.

"Weird," he shook his head dismissively. "Anyway, how did we get onto this topic? I was asking you whether I look better in this cloak or the other."

Lupin let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Puberty had arrived in the marauders' dormitory at full speed the previous September, resulting in the hasty perfection of silencing spells, unbearable waiting times for use of the bathroom and attention to aspects of personal appearance which had been hitherto completely ignored.

Now James was standing in front of their full-length mirror, with a long, velvet-trimmed brown cloak over one shoulder, and a mid-length blue cape over the other. Both were brand new, lined with shimmering satin and purchased that morning from Hogsmeade, having been toted as the very latest in overwear for the hip and discerning young wizard. The price tag for the shorter model alone had been more than triple Remus' monthly allowance, but such trifles are of no import when there is a family account. Sirius had charged a new pair of flying boots to Mr & Mrs Potter at the same time. 'Quite right, mate,' James had agreed. 'Dad would hate to see Gryffindor honour compromised by shoddy equipment. Actually, you'd better take the matching leather gloves too.' Remus had never imagined he would fall in with such people. Every term their huge trunks yielded new items of unimaginable wonder. His pride forbade him from accepting the gifts and hand-me-downs which the wealthy pure-blooded boys pressed on him every few days out of pity, but he didn't mind borrowing the odd thing here and there. Borrowing was different.

He had been borrowing James' ermine-lined, ice-repelling deerstalker for three and a half years now. But that was perfectly fair. Its rightful owner was the one who insisted they gallivant around the colder parts of the castle at the dead of night, after all.

"Moony?" prompted Potter, with some impatience.

"Sorry," he shook the reflections away. "The brown brings out your eyes."

"Do you think so?" he slipped said cloak over both shoulders and turned this way and that, examining the cut and the drape of the cloth. "I trust you on this. You've always been good with colours."

The door flew open and crashed against Peter's night-table, which James had moved over in order to pose more effectively. A goblet, book, reading-glasses and a few knuts rattled onto the stone floor, jarring the werewolf's already frazzled nerves.

"Whoops!" cried Sirius cheerfully, making no move to pick them up. As usual, he nose-dived onto his bed from the doorway, landing in a heap of rumpled clothes and homework and making the mattress groan in pain. "Nice frock, Jim, it's exactly the same colour as the hippogriff dung we were using in potions yesterday! You'll knock her socks off with that!"

"I don't know who you're talking about," James flushed and ripped off his new purchase, crushing it into a ball and flinging it into his open trunk with a violence which made Remus wince. Peter arrived, wide eyed and wheezing from trying to race Sirius up the stairs. He sat on the edge of his bed and gathered up his scattered possessions, grumbling to himself as he spotted the huge crack down the side of his bedside table.

"Oh, you've got a blue one too!" crowed Black, not yet finished winding up his best friend, delighted to have got a rise. "Now, what colour does that remind me of? Moony, remember when we dumped Snivellus in the lake last Christmas?"

Remus turned away so they wouldn't see his frustrated scowl.

"Not something you forget," he hissed. "He wasn't breathing when you finally pulled him out."

"It was just the shock. He was fine!" James insisted, slamming his trunk on both cloaks. Whether he was cross at being teased about a girl, or about having eyes the same colour as dung, Remus could not tell.

"Speaking of the Snivelling one," Sirius sat up straight and looked more serious. "Me and Wormy just saw him and his bum-chum, Lucy."

"Sirius," admonished James, his anger quick to evaporate, as usual. "Malfoy _will_ kill you if you carry on calling him that, Head Boy or not. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah," he ran his hand through his hair carelessly, but his eyes were unnaturally intent as he watched Remus. "Anyway, Lucy was talking about this book his Pa's had pinched, the one that was in the paper. Apparently, there's a curse which will kill the thief in a couple of hours' time."

"He's lying!" laughed Potter. "That's not possible!" For once, Sirius seemed immune to his dorm-mate's infectious giggle, still openly staring at the scruffier boy as though trying to read something hidden in his gaunt face.

"Yes, it is," he replied to James but still stared at Remus until the latter felt so uncomfortable he had to get up and turn away, wondering what on earth was wrong. "I heard Mother explaining it to Reggs once. Death in horrible paroxysms of agony, or some such." Pettigrew broke the silence with a fit of coughing, which everyone ignored. "I would give that book back _right now_ if I had taken it."

"Padfoot, are you OK?" asked James, frowning. "You're being very odd this afternoon."

"Right now," Sirius repeated, and Remus felt eyes boring into the back of his neck.

"It has to be put behind the tapestry, in the alcove behind the statue of Abolala the Abysmal Turning his Moustache into a Yeti on the second floor, in three-quarters of an hour's time." He said, clearly but cryptically, before leaping to his feet and stomping away as though seized by some unbearable torment.

James and Remus looked blankly at each other, still ignoring Peter, who was rummaging desperately through the piles of hoarded junk underneath his bed.

"What's up with him?" asked the animagus. Lupin shook his head in bewilderment. "Peter? Did anything happen?"

"N…no," the smallest boy replied, still scrabbling around on the floor. "Well, Snape spat in his eye. Maybe that's it."

"That little sod!" yelled James indignantly. "How dare he…what are you smirking for, Moony?"

"No reason!" said Remus quickly, hiding his amusement behind his hand. _That's my Severus!_ he added quietly to himself.

…….

Though it was still light outside, the corridor was in complete darkness; being located in such a dismally labyrinthine part of the ancient building meant that the only illumination to ever warm the walls came from the enchanted torchères at random intervals along its length.

As these were currently extinguished, the only way for an observer to make out the identity of the figure hurrying away from the sculpture was the brief flash of light which silhouetted it as the door leading to pleasanter, more frequented parts of the castle was yanked open. It quickly banged shut, plunging the corridor back into blackness.

"Interesting," said Lucius, as he stepped out from the alcove opposite Abolala and his abominable facial hair. This was an unexpected development. The burst of light had been enough to unmask their former tormentor, brought down by Snape's wonderful quick-thinking. It was too soon for Lucius to take his revenge on the kid. Much more useful tortures could be planned at leisure, later on.

He cast 'lumos' and reached behind the tapestry, sighing in relief as his fingers found the familiar leather binding of the missing manuscript. It seemed fine except for the page which had been removed and posted to him, and an unfortunate scorch-mark running diagonally from corner to corner on the front cover. Or perhaps the back cover. Lucius had got confused about which was the start and which was the end with Arabic. Was it still called the 'front' if it was technically at the back? Though who was to define 'back' or 'front'. It was obviously all relative.

"Master de Malfoy?" boomed an authoritative voice behind him, out of nowhere. Lucius gave an inelegant yip of surprise and clutched the book to his chest, cursing himself for failing to anticipate that he may not be the only silent watcher in the dark. He turned to see an ephemerally glowing shape hovering just above him and relaxed.

"Baron, you startled me, sir!" he recovered his poise immediately.

"Indeed, but not before your task was accomplished, mark you," the ghost smirked. Lucius laughed. There was a reason the late aristocrat had become the Slytherin house spirit.

"I'm grateful," he bowed slightly.

"Will you permit me the liberty of enquiring, young sir, as to what you are about?" the eyes above the bloodstained ruff were no less piercing for their being insubstantial.

"Recovering stolen property," he tapped the manuscript thoughtfully. "And wondering how best to return it to its rightful owner, without revealing my involvement."

"Might we be in the presence of the rare codex that your men of justice so ardently seek?" the Baron asked slyly. Lucius' jaw dropped. Apparently satisfied with the reaction, the ghost continued. "Think you that the deceased are so aloof to the affairs of the vital?"

"Not at all," he replied smoothly. "I am merely impressed with your knowledge. Yes, my father told the Ministry that the book was taken and now they're looking everywhere for it. I don't know how I'm going to put it back!" It had not occurred to Lucius until now that recovering the manuscript was only half the battle. He leaned against the wall to try and think of a solution, subconsciously playing with a lock of hair as he pondered. The Baron watched for a few minutes, spectral blood dripping silently onto the floor and vanishing only to be replaced with more.

"You resemble your ancestor in ways so numerous," he murmured softly, looking away into the distance, or into the past, Lucius thought was more likely, in the deserted corridor. "Hair fair as flax and a mind artful as a vixen, had Lady Matilda de Malfoy. On her account indeed, was I brought to great riches and power; and by milady's very same token was I condemned to this sorry netherworld. Cheap victory cost me dear – for the toll I do pay is not a moment less than cruel Eternity."

"You…loved her, sir?" asked Lucius in a whisper, for the first time paying attention to the Baron's wistful references to his distant relative.

"Aye, sir," he replied nobly. "What other sentiment could a red-blooded man nurture for a fair and comely maiden preparing a cunning plot to rid him of the three cousins lying incommodiously between him and the inheritance of a fortune? Oh! Ruthless damsel! Oh! Enchanting angel! Oh! Wretched the chance that rent us asunder!"

"She killed your cousins?" Lucius was fascinated enough to forget his own predicament in the face of a good story.

"It was I who adulterated their sherry-wine, but she who brewed the poison," his face shone with admiration at the memory. Looking down at the manuscript, he continued. "Her Ladyship had an aged book of efficacious Eastern venoms, gifted by a Florentine admirer."

Once again, Lucius was left staring in wonder.

"This book?"

"Aye, sir."

"Merlin!"

"Nay, Salazar, should you say," he said mildly. "He made study with the author in Mesopotamia before journeying to Scotland."

"And we almost destroyed the thing!" Lucius shook his head in disbelief, reflecting that he really ought to be more careful. "So, what happened after your cousins died?"

"I succeeded to my honourable title, the baronial estates and the gold, yet hoped to compound my good fortune by wedding the wily Lady Matilda. Blinded by love, I did not attend to milady's machinations. In a trice she had divined that in the event of my own demise, a cousin on the other side of the family – Humphrey Prewett-Smith - would inherit my great wealth, in addition to his extant, superior title of Earl. Politic wench that she was, she chose the Earl above the unhappy Baron!"

"And she killed you, too?" Lucius was hanging on the ghost's every word. Clearly Matilda de Malfoy had had style!

"Nay, he performed the deed at her behest. Crept upon me like a cur and cut my very throat," he indicated the silvery wound with a grimace. "Remorse undid him in the end. 'Twas my great pleasure to haunt his every breath from that moment on. Scarce a fortnight after my assassination he threw off responsibility and his betrothed and entered holy orders, praying to his god every day to forgive the misdeed. I never let him be, mark you. Once his soul and body parted company one freezing night in the monastery I brought his wraith here, where perpetuity allows me to inflict endless torment."

"Wow!" gasped Malfoy. "That's amazing. And Lady Matilda, what happened to her?"

"Sweet girl! I cannot condemn her fair countenance for any part of this sorry tale. I later heard tell of her marriage into a worthy old dynasty. Name of Gaunt, I believe," his eyes took on that distant look once more. There was another silence while the boy processed the incredible tale.

Love really could be a man's undoing. There were lessons to be learned here.

"What do you think I should do with the book, Baron?" he asked at length. "What would Lady Matilda have done?"

"Your esteemed father's folk seek it everywhere, do they not?" he mused. "I counsel you to then abandon it in a place far from here where they might find it with ease. None shall divine your involvement, when a blameless soul stumbles upon it."

"In Hogsmeade?" ventured Lucius.

"Too near. A hub of activity suits our purpose better, where strangers pass daily unremarked and an object could be deposited by anyone."

"Diagon Alley," he concluded firmly. "Baron, I don't know how to thank you! You've done so much to help me!"

"In memoriam of the one I loved," he smiled and let translucent blood trickle through his translucent fingers. Lucius left him, lost in his wistful reflections, and pounded down to Slytherin to fetch his most voluminous hooded cloak.

…….

Secret passage to Hogsmeade. Hasty apparition from the alley behind the Hog's Head to outside the Leaky Cauldron. Circumnavigating the boisterous clientele of the portal pub. Through the wall into Diagon Alley. Down the steps into Knockturn Alley.

The whole journey took less than half an hour, but by the time Lucius made it to the seediest wizarding location in Europe, his heart was hammering. None of the anonymous figures paid obvious attention to him, preoccupied with their own clandestine missions, no doubt. Not wanting to risk being caught with the evidence on his person, he marched as purposefully as he could past a grimy side street and flicked the manuscript down it without breaking his stride. Then he rushed back into Diagon Alley, ripped of the cloak, shrank and pocketed it.

It was as though a crushing weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had only snitched the book from his father out of curiosity in a moment of boredom, yet it had caused cauldronloads of trouble from the beginning. He had been almost killed when the only potion they had succeeded in brewing had blown up. He had been chased by a werewolf as they fled the explosion. He owed a life-debt to _Peeves._ He had almost been blackmailed by a fifteen year old Gryffindor. His father suspected him of having a hand in the theft. And somewhere during the chaos of it all he had fallen in love with an ill-mannered and ill-tempered half-Egyptian boy.

But on the bright side, he had fallen in love with an ill-mannered and ill-tempered half-Egyptian boy.

Lucius smiled goofily to himself. The brat had not reacted well to his declaration of love, but that was perfectly in keeping with his vicious, suspicious disposition. They had almost come to blows a few days earlier when the Head Boy had unthinkingly called him beautiful, so it stood to reason that discovering he was loved would irk the complicated child. He had obviously just been overwhelmed by the suddenness of it – and not many could claim to have heard that weighty phrase from the lips of a handsome Malfoy. Sweet, poisonous Severus had just upset himself needlessly. Once Lucius returned to school and tracked him down, he would have reflected on his good fortune and be full of gratitude and delicious adulation. And the make-up sex would be fantastic.

Not wanting to linger near the scene, he resisted the tempting array of shops and hastened back to the Leaky Cauldron. For a few seconds, a group of gossiping witches and their enormous shopping baskets blocked his path, for just long enough to catch a little of their conversation.

"…he really upset me, he did!" A large woman in her early thirties complained, while the others shook their heads and tutted in sympathy. "And then, he comes bouncing back later, with no idea why I was crying and no concept of having done anything wrong!"

"Men! Why don't they ever think about anyone else's feelings but their own?" fumed a curly-haired woman with a sticky-looking baby on her hip.

"Well, I hope he had the decency to bring you a present!" exclaimed another, and all the others nodded. "It would be the least he could do!"

"Nope," cried the first woman, with the triumph of the seriously martyred. "Not a thing!"

The whole group was scandalised, glaring at Lucius as one of the enemy when he finally managed to push past them.

He grumbled to himself at womankind's tendency to blame the opposite sex for the fact that they were all hypersensitive and at least fifty percent of them, in his own experience at least, were barking mad. How did they expect a man to know what the problem was if they didn't tell him? He hoped Severus wasn't going to start any histrionics with him now. Snape was male, which naturally suggested that he was more rational and fathomable than any previous Malfoy paramour; but he also had the unfortunate tendency to be cryptic, unpredictable and easily offended, just like the girls. Perhaps he was at a difficult age. An unsolicited moment of clairvoyance made Lucius wonder if Snape was the kind of person who would ever have a non-difficult age.

He considered whether the boy's flight earlier that afternoon stemmed from Lucius unknowingly upsetting him, just like that woman's husband. Was the child crying to his friends somewhere about his insensitive boyfriend? Well no, he reflected, probably not. He had no friends, for a start.

The other part of the conversation bothered him, too. The combination of having told Severus how he felt, having offended him and finally clearing up the mess surrounding the manuscript meant that some sort of token/guilt/celebration present was in order. It would do no harm. He whipped out a pair of sunglasses and muttered a spell to turn his hair an unremarkable shade of brown, before heading back to the shops. He passed the bookshop, not daring to even attempt to find a book which the studious brat had not already devoured. He passed the stationer's – 'I love you, Severus, here's some blotting paper' not sounding terribly romantic. He passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, with the knowledge that his young lover was more suited to indoor pursuits than outdoor. It gave Lucius rather a jolt to realise that he must be getting old. At eighteen years of age, he could finally walk down the street without making a beeline for the sports emporium and coming out with all the latest equipment or a new Wasps strip. (This last habit was a highly indulgent one, as he only ever wore his sign of allegiance underneath his robes. No self-respecting Slytherin would dare to publicly deck himself out in black and yellow, even if he had used his father's influence to get the thing signed by the entire team, coach, owner and Ludo Bagman. Besides, they had performed appallingly since scrapping the Hawkshead attacking formation last season. Imbeciles. And having the Stannybrook sisters both off with injuries hadn't helped.)

His thoughts continued in this melancholy vein until he stopped dead in the middle of the road, his eye caught by the most perfect present he could ever have imagined. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

Feeling incredibly pleased with himself, Lucius headed inside. There was no way the brat could complain about this! For once, everything was going right and the future looked promising. A little guile was all one required.

…….

AN: Oho, what has he spotted? And what will happen to the book thief? (I actually know the answer to one of these questions, for once!)

Canon places Malfoy Manor somewhere in Wiltshire (home of Stonehenge incidentally, and, for those who have read my Snupins, the Institute of Master Potioners!) so his local Quidditch team is probably Wimbourne Wasps, though with floo travel and apparition, wizards don't appear to have much call for regional identity. What the heck. It amused me.

Hope you liked the Baron's tale – I always get carried away with the historical details. We've not quite had the last of his story either…

Thanks for reading guys, and my sincere apologies to AngelTalion for not getting this up in time for her surgery. Hopefully it will brighten your convalescence instead. Get well soon x


	11. Examining the Results

Ahem, sorry about the wait. Again. Here's chapter 11 of this old chestnut, for anyone who still cares! Happy New Year x

Warning: Rude words.

…….

The kittens were gambolling around their pen in the window of Magical Menagerie, mewing, chasing balls of string and being generally fluffy and cute in everything they did. Each one had a magical tag hovering in the air above it, announcing it to be 'sold' - presumably to be separated from its siblings at a later date, when the shopkeeper deemed them old enough to go to their new homes. There was a small crowd of little girls pressing their noses to the window, practically sobbing at the sight of so much feline loveliness.

Lucius' eye, however, had been caught by the pen's other occupant. Too big to be a kitten, but not quite a cat, the ginger and black speckled creature sat disdainfully in the corner, sneering at the young fuzzballs as they played. Some kind of defect had drawn back the left side of its lip, so that a one-fanged sneer was the permanent expression on its face. The ball of pink string which the others found so fascinating was rolled over to it during the course of the frolics. Without wasting so much as a glance on this disturbance, the adolescent cat rose, turned and stalked away with its tail twitching in disgust.

"That one," said Lucius.

"Er, are you sure, sir?" asked Madam Darwyn doubtfully. "She's not even supposed to be in the window and she knows it. Her ugly face scares people away! Not that her personality is much more appealing, mind you. What about a lovely kneazle? All these cats are sold but one of my suppliers has a kneazle in kit at the moment - should have five or six of the little blighters in a week or so, I'll do you a very good price if you order one now." Lucius shook his head, knowing precisely what he wanted.

"It's obviously not a recognised breed," he opened negotiations.

"It is," contradicted Madam Darwyn automatically.

"Oh?"

"It's a…" she waved a hand in the air as she tried to come up with something.

"It's a _cat,_" he finished for her, hands on hips. "Or at least, it looks like it might be, one day. It's a deformed…"

"I prefer, aesthetically different…"

"…ill-tempered…"

"…reserved…"

"…old…"

"…we're none of us getting any younger…"

"…unsaleable…"

"…er…"

"…bag of bones," he finished smoothly, as though she had not even spoken.

He pulled a handful of coins from his pocket and placed them on the counter.

"Ten sickles?" she spat incredulously. "Her brothers fetched four galleons apiece!"

"I'm not interested in her brothers," said Lucius, cold as ice.

"I couldn't possibly accept so little!"

"The beast is defective. I am performing a favour by taking it off your hands."

"One galleon, five knuts, and that's my final offer."

"How long before it makes those young witches outside the window burst into tears?"

"OK, a galleon."

"Ten sickles, and some kind of cage to transport it in."

"No."

"Fine," Luicus brushed the silver off the table and put it back in his pocket, walking away. Madam Darwyn gritted her teeth and cursed under her breath, irritated beyond belief by the arrogant teenager, but genetically programmed to prevent hard cash from leaving the premises.

"All right, ten sickles," she hissed, seizing a battered box from under the counter and pulling on a pair of elbow-length dragonhide gloves and protective mask. "But you're not bringing it back if you don't get on with it."

A long, painful and aurally unpleasant struggle later, Malfoy left the Alley with a smug expression and a stunned cat lying stiffly in a cardboard box, while Madam Darwyn tended her wounds and put the shop back together.

…….

Lucius knew that it could take a while before he found Severus, in order to have a much-needed 'chat' and hand over the present. If the brat was sulking it might not be wise to disturb him until he had finished his little crisis, or whatever was the matter with him; which meant that it could be days before the older boy was able to track down his beloved.

He was plotting ways to ambush him after lessons, or in his dormitory - though for that he would have to threaten or bribe the obnoxious dorm-mates to stay out of the way without arousing their suspicions. Sighing at the way life got more complicated when you were in love, he made his way through the dungeons, the improvised cat-box under his arm appearing mercifully unremarkable and unlikely to incite interest from his suspicious fellow snakes. Though the kitten was the perfect present for Severus, it was not the sort of creature with which Lucius cared to be associated. His choice for a personal familiar would be something far more sleek and well-groomed as a worthy companion for the sole heir to his worthy dynasty. For no apparent reason, his mind then threw up an image of Narcissa Black, looking stunning in cornflower blue at her family's summer ball last July.

He sighed again. A fitting consort, certainly; elegant, witty and raised to be the perfect pure-blooded society wife. But for all her beauty and perfection, the sight of her produced no goose-pimples on Lucius' flesh, nor did the desire to seize her and kiss her senseless almost overwhelm him when they were in the same room. His mind had been taught good taste and practical self-interest by tutors and parents since birth, but it seemed that his heart had not been paying attention during class. Through a combination of nature and nurture, his brain had long since attained the height of cultivated sophistication. Sadly, it transpired that his heart was an unconventional oaf with its own ideas of perfection, involving big noses, prominent ribs and sarcasm foul enough to melt granite.

It was extremely lucky, given this unfortunate state of affairs, that discretion and cunning came as naturally to Lucius as breathing. Thus far, his guilty secret was known to only two ghosts and one mortal – he didn't count the brainless banter thrown around by Sirius Black, who considered implying that another boy was queer was a serious insult, to be used indiscriminately against one's foe. Malfoy smiled and reminded himself to observe the gaunt face of Black's friend Buttercup or whatever he was called, next time the shameless blood-traitor started mouthing off. He must not forget that the pathetic little creature was in love with his Severus. Logically, there was no reason for Lucius to fear. Malfoy was beautiful, rich, powerful, promising, sexy… his list of attributes was endless, in fact; whereas Begonia was a sickly little runt who used second-hand _quills,_ for Merlin's sake. Who in this day and age could be so poor they couldn't afford a new pen?

But as Lucius' own experience had shown, logic seemed to have little to do with love. If he discovered that whatever he had done to upset Severus had propelled the brat into the arms of that Gryffindor oik, then there was going to be Trouble so fiendishly awesome it would have to be entered into the next reprint of 'Hogwarts: a History'. He needed to get his hands on Snape before it was too late.

He whispered the password to the private Head Boy's suite and almost cried out in surprise.

"Hello," said Snape quietly.

Lucius allowed his shock to turn to delight. The wretched brat was in _his_ room (not Marigold's), sitting on _his_ pillow (not Marigold's), smoking yet another of _his_ Sobranie cigarettes (as if Marigold could afford any kind of tobacco products). Hah. And he had come willingly, without needing to be hunted, bullied or tricked into it. Superb.

In fact, he was looking rather superb, too. The hair, for once, was shining and clean, the robes were free of their usual potion or scuffle stains - in fact, the lovely blue cloak was looking a bit too well-cut and fashionable to belong to Snape and Malfoy wondered from whom it had been acquired. He was leaning back against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and Lucius reflected for an indulgent moment on how no sight in the world had ever been so welcome.

"Hello," he replied with a soppy wide smile.

The cat chose that most poignant moment to throw off the stunning spell. It came to life with a hellish screech, rattling around inside the box and gouging the cardboard with the malevolence of the very darkest of dark creatures. Luicus held the container at arm's length and gingerly placed it on the floor. He swallowed tentatively. Somehow presenting the boy with this enraged demon no longer seemed like a good idea, it seemed like a number one grade 'O' way of making him run away again.

"What is that?" Severus started up from the bed, magnetically attracted to danger.

"It's a gift," Malfoy said hopefully, but also half-resigned to being abandoned. "For you."

Severus positively sparkled.

"For me? Really? Is it illegal?" He crouched next to the jerking box with a fascinated gaze. "Is it a restricted magical creature? A deadly beast?"

As if to answer the question, there was a very terminal sound of ripping cardboard. Quick and agile as a synchronised flying display, Lucius and Severus leaped up onto the bed, wands drawn, and a streak of black and ginger fury rocketed out into the room.

"It's a cat!" exclaimed Snape during the fluffy firework's third lap around the walls, as it began to run out of murderous rage and slow down enough to be observed.

"Well, it looked like a cat in the shop, but…" Luicus tailed off uncertainly. He wished his heart were not hammering so loudly. There was no real danger from a scruffy looking little mog, not for an almost-qualified wizard of his talent. Then he remembered how harmless the scruffy-looking little wizard next to him could look when he tried, and felt slightly better about being so alarmed.

"It's great!" the younger boy beamed, peering down at the hearthrug, where the cat had come to rest, its chest heaving, eyes flashing and fur standing on end like a cornered porcupine. He vanished his cigarette in order to concentrate on the new arrival. "Hello," Severus greeted it in a welcoming voice.

It bared its teeth at him and hissed like a cobra.

"I love it! Thank you, Lucius!" Thrilled with his feisty new pet for some unfathomable reason, Severus threw his arms around the older boy and kissed him with enthusiasm. For the first time in weeks, Lucius relaxed completely. He sagged to his knees on the bed, bringing Severus down with him, then tumbled them both backwards where they could roll into a nice comfortable position. Just as he was deciding that sprawling suggestively on top of Severus was surely his favourite place to be in the entire world, the fourth year pulled back from him to speak.

"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly.

"For what?" much of Lucius' blood was somewhere other than his memory. He kissed Severus' neck and ground their hips together, trying to make him stop talking and pay attention to more important matters.

"For running off when you said…when you said…" there was obviously more than just lust preventing him from completing the sentence, so with an effort, Malfoy forced some kind of thought process through his cerebrum and ended it for him.

"When I told you that I love you?"

In the silence, they could hear claws ripping up something underneath the bed.

"Yes," Severus managed eventually.

"It's true, brat. I do love you," the words flowed out just as easily here, tangled up in gangly adolescent limbs as in the corridor, when he had been amazed by the sharpness of the boy's cunning in dealing with Black.

"But you're leaving school in a few weeks," he turned away and Lucius had to seize the prominent chin and gently tug his face closer to try and work out what in the name of Merlin's nether regions that fact had to do with anything.

"So?"

"It's not fair to say _that_ to me and then go," he mumbled. "I'll be here, stuck in this place, being kicked around by Black and Potter, glared at by teachers, fenced in by stupid petty regulations. Meanwhile you will be out living life to the full, having parties, a career, travelling, getting married and who knows what else."

"That's not true," receiving a close-range sneer, he recanted immediately. "Very well, it is true, but we can still see lots of each other. You can take a secret passage out at weekends and we'll meet after dark in Hogsmeade. Think how romantic it will be! Moonlit trysts! You can stay with me during the holidays, too. I'm not going to let you get away from me, Severus, my love. I should go insane if I couldn't see you, so I'm not going to let it happen."

Snape sat up, pushing his fringe out of his face with palpable melancholy.

"You say all this, yet I know it won't happen. Perhaps at first it will be exciting to steal me away from under Dumbledore's nose, but then there will be more interesting things to do, more worthy people to sleep with and you'll let it drop. It is going to be unbearable to come back to this dump in September knowing that you'll never be here with me again."

"Severus…" he tried to interrupt.

"No, Lucius, listen. It would have been easier to deal with if you hadn't said…what you said. I could have just written this whole thing off as an older pupil shagging a younger one for his own convenience until he can leave school and get a wife, no hard feelings and no damage done. It's a time-honoured boarding school tradition."

"What?!" Lucius' blood ran cold, then something hot began to mount inside him, boiling and rising like a lava flow. "Is that what you think is going on? Is that what you think of me? Bloody fucking hell, Severus, is that what you _want_?"

Severus and the cat were staring at each other, the cat having sufficiently overcome the indignity of being imprisoned to begin investigating its surroundings. It turned its permanent lopsided scowl on Snape, who smiled back absently.

"I asked you a question," Lucius had never been so angry in his life, though it felt like something more than simple anger. It was a violent physical sensation, twisting his guts, tearing through his chest and burning his eyeballs. A sudden flash of understanding told him that whatever this overwhelming emotion was, it would be enough to fuel an Unforgivable curse. He had assumed until now that it just took determination and lots of practice on the part of the caster, but the bitter malevolence coursing through him, preparing itself to burst forth into death or agony informed him that it took much more than that. To wield true dark magical power, it seemed that you needed to _feel_.

He was having rather too much feeling at that moment.

The glass jug on the bedside table splintered and slopped water all over the floor, prompting a jerk of surprise from Severus and an affronted yowl from the cat. Malfoy's anger broke with it and he sank back onto the bed, spent and ashamed of his lapse into uncontrolled magic. It was disgraceful to have so little control, at his age.

"Sorry," whispered Severus. "It is amazing that you love me. Unbelieveable." He swallowed. "I fell in love with you when I was eleven, watching you win a Quidditch match during my first term at Hogwarts and I immediately resigned myself to worshipping you from afar because boys like you don't lower themselves to associating with boys like me. Hearing that you loved me was just impossible, inconceivable."

Processing this news, Lucius watched water dripping onto the rug so that he didn't have to look at Snape. He must have recently developed an allergy to cat hair, given the way his eyes were stinging now. It was odd, because he had never suffered when he was younger.

"I could probably have lived quite comfortably all my life with my hopeless longing, but you had to go and reciprocate and now that I've had you I don't think I can ever be without you," he sniffed once. Twice. Three times, and Lucius realised he must be crying. Tears trickled from his own eyes in response, though he still dared not look at that dear, ugly face as his lover suffered because of him.

It was too painful. He would rather still have the threat of his father's wrath and the formerly mysterious blackmailer terrorising him than feel like this. That panic was nothing compared to the leaden misery now settling on his shoulders. Slowly, so slowly that he could almost see himself being doubled-framed by a spectator's omnioculars, he stood up and crossed to the silver box on the mantel where he kept his cigarettes, took one and lit it with trembling hands.

His chamber was a complete mess. The cat had shredded a dado rail of claw marks all the way around the walls, glass shards and water formed a dangerous glittering puddle next to the bed and scraps of cardboard were scattered over the whole scene. It felt fitting, in some kind of apt, poetic way, that his living quarters had been physically ruined to match his state of mind.

"Severus," he said.

The boy was still crying. He shook his head and wiped his nose thoroughly on the corner of the lovely blue cloak.

"I'm going outside," he made his way towards the door without looking at Lucius.

"Don't disappear again," Lucius pleaded. Snape sniffed wetly and shook his head.

"Just need a bit of air," he turned back. "Well, cat. Are you coming?"

The cat glared from Snape to Malfoy and back again, trying to decide which of them it loathed the least. It slowly rose and with no eagerness or outward show of pleasure, made its way towards Severus, animal senses spotting a kindred spirit.

"I…" began Lucius, trying to think of something comforting to say, to make sure that Severus did come back, to make sure that this was not the last word. Before he managed it, there was a loud banging on the door.

They both jumped and the cat flattened its ears against its head.

"I shouldn't be here," whispered Severus fearfully.

"It's all right," Lucius reassured him, taking a calm drag on his cigarette. "They ought to know better than to disturb me! There are rules about bothering the Head Boy in his private rooms. They'll remember in a minute and leave us alone."

The knocking came again, making Lucius purse his lips with irritation.

"Go away!" he ordered, imperiously.

"I _beg_ your pardon?!" bellowed a horribly familiar voice. Lucius emitted what can only be described as a squeak of terror. "Lucius Malfoy!" the visitor continued. "This is your father speaking, and Headmaster Dumbledore is with me. You will open this door at once!"

Lucius glanced wildly around him, registering his own tearstained face, Snape out-of-bounds and in a stolen cloak, the unsuitable cat, the wrecked room, the ciggie in his hand and all the other sights which Icarus Malfoy really didn't need to see. He squeaked again and stared wildly at Severus, who had folded his arms in resignation.

"Help!" croaked Lucius.

Snape shook his head. "We're fucked," he decreed with a grimace.

xxxxxxx

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed the update! So, what shall we call the pussy cat? x


	12. Pur non plus

……. 

_The knocking came again, making Lucius purse his lips with irritation._

"_Go away!" he ordered, imperiously._

"_I beg your pardon?!" bellowed a horribly familiar voice. Lucius emitted what can only be described as a squeak of terror. "Lucius Malfoy!" the visitor continued. "This is your father speaking, and Headmaster Dumbledore is with me. You will open this door at once!"_

_Lucius glanced wildly around him, registering his own tearstained face, Snape out-of-bounds and in a stolen cloak, the unsuitable cat, the wrecked room, the ciggie in his hand and all the other sights which Icarus Malfoy really didn't need to see. He squeaked again and stared wildly at Severus, who had folded his arms in resignation._

"_Help!" croaked Lucius._

_Snape shook his head. "We're fucked," he decreed with a grimace._

…….

A few heartstopping seconds later the knocking resumed, but this time it was softer, almost tentative.

"Master Malfoy?" Dumbledore sounded concerned. "Are you quite all right in there, my boy?"

It was the Headmaster's interference which saved them. Icarus Malfoy on the warpath was such a fearsome phenomenon that they had frozen like scantily-clad maidens in the thrall of a vampire, knowing it would be useless to try and squirm their way out of the merry hell he was about to unleash. An avuncular Dumbledore, however, was a fair foe for any intelligent Slytherin to try and hoodwink.

At the sound of the jovial old voice, Lucius and Severus sprang into action as though a binding spell had suddenly been lifted.

Severus got rid of the cardboard, scooped up the cat and dived into the wardrobe, stumbling over a few pairs of boots as he did so, but managed to close the door behind him.

Lucius stubbed out his cigarette and cast a lightening-quick freshening charm. He vanished the spilled water and broken glass and spun around casting a general 'Reparo' on the ripped wallpaper, then remembered the spell his mother had always used for creating the illusion of a clear complexion to get rid of the tearstains on his face.

He glanced around the room. It was not perfect, but it would pass and there was no more time to spare. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

"My apologies, Headmaster, Father," he gave a small bow. "Please come in. I beg you to excuse the disarray, I was not expecting visitors."

"Not at all, Master Malfoy," beamed Dumbledore, stepping over the threshold. "It is highly irregular of me to bring a parent into the dormitory area, I admit, but we have received such good news that I thought an exception to the rule was in order! Can you guess what has happened?"

The old man was practically beaming. Icarus' face had its habitual stately and respectable cast but his son was only conscious of the predatory glint in the steel-grey eyes as they bored into him, probing and grasping for some sign of weakness.

"No, Sir, I cannot," lied Lucius, mildly.

"My manuscript has been recovered," Icarus' mouth said. His eyes, on the other hand, said _'You're up to something, boy, and it's only a matter of time before I find out what and have you horsewhipped for it!'_

"Wonderful news, indeed!" smiled Lucius.

"It was handed to Imelda Borgin just half an hour ago, who recognised it immediately and gave it to a nearby auror," Dumbledore informed him, so obviously editing out the more interesting parts of the tale that the young man had to struggle not to laugh. To find an auror anywhere near Borgin & Burke's was indicative of some much greater struggle of Light versus Dark than a simple hunt for a missing book; likewise for any of the shady Knockturn Alley shopkeepers to willingly co operate with the Ministry hinted at covert deals being cut on the sly. Then the Headmaster frowned. "Oh dear, were you lying down, Master Malfoy? Are you unwell?" He followed Dumbledore's eyes to the bed, which was rather rumpled after the recent emotional turbulence between the two boys.

"Oh, no, Sir, I...er," he began, then stopped on seeing his father's lip curve upwards in an evil smirk as he gazed intently in the direction of the wardrobe.

Lucius turned. Started. Stared. Managed to prevent himself gaping. On the floor by the wardrobe doors was a Quidditch boot, which Severus must have knocked out as he clambered inside. Just next to it was a small black and red cloth object, which Lucius knew with horrifying certainty to be the bra he had pocketed after landing in the laundry chute all that time ago, the night of the explosion when that blasted manuscript had first gone missing. The bra with Bellatrix Black's nametape sewn into it.

With some effort, he managed to remain calm and not begin to imagine the outcry if underwear belonging to his future sister-in-law was found in his bedroom. Quite aside from the trouble from his father, the Headmaster, the Lestranges, Narcissa and most of the Black family; Bellatrix would hex his balls off for theft and defamation.

One of Icarus' white eyebrows rose suggestively, but Lucius stood his ground. Only real Malfoy ingenuity could save the day now. Fortunately, Lucius possessed plenty of that. The 'Divide and conquer' rule had worked a treat on those Gryffindor oafs, so why not on the current threat? Knowing that the best way to pull off a lie was by sticking as closely as possible to the truth, the Head Boy decided on a plan.

He shot a plaintive look at his father, nodding towards Dumbledore, then the bra, then the wardrobe. Icarus froze. Lucius repeated the action, trying to convey in his face the almost-truth of his unfortunate predicament in much the same way that Icarus had projected his suspicions earlier. He thought hard, focussing on the words as with a non-verbal spell: '_Help me, Father. There's a girl hiding in the wardrobe and I'll be expelled if Dumbledore finds out, bringing shame on the family name.'_ Both of Malfoy Senior's brows rose almost to his hairline as he understood. Taking a leaf out of Black and Potter's book, Lucius gave a barely perceptible boys-will-be-boys shrug, knowing that according to the unwritten codes of behaviour laid down for young pureblooded wizards, giving in to one's baser urges at the age of eighteen was not a disowning offence. As long as said urges centred on females and one was not caught doing it by the Headmaster of Hogwarts, that is. Which was why Lucius needed both adults OUT of his room before unpleasant revelations took place. He shot out another pleading look for good measure, letting his father feel in control of the situation.

Icarus gave a tiny nod and Lucius felt the power in the room shift, as both Slytherins allied in family solidarity against the Gryffindor enemy.

Dumbledore was muttering about his dear boy looking rather pale, apparently as oblivious to the lifesaving exchange which had just taken place between father and son as to the lacy underwear lying so helpfully on the floor. Icarus strode forward and placed the palm of his hand on Lucius' forehead.

"You do seem rather _hot and bothered,_ Lucius," he smirked, believing that he was torturing his amorous son. Which of course, he was, just in a rather different way from the one he imagined. Squirming, the teenager pulled away from the contact, as though embarrassed.

"Father, I'm fine," he protested. "NEWTs are coming up soon, I've just been studying…"

"Ah, yes," glittered Icarus. "I'll bet you've been _studying…_," he pronounced the euphemism emphatically, "…terribly _hard_."

"Lucius is a good pupil," Dumbledore joined in cheerfully. "He's always at it."

The Malfoys stared, wondering for an agonising moment whether they had seriously underestimated the old man.

"Yes indeed," he continued, twinkly and bright, innocent as a baby, "Day and night, it's all he ever thinks about, slogging away as though his life depended on it!"

Lucius began to feel slightly unwell for real, until Daddy came to the rescue once again.

"How commendable," he said. "But I should like to take my son up to the infirmary, just to be on the safe side. If he is under the weather I should like him to be cured well before the start of the exams. Shall we?" He grasped Lucius' arm and held the door for Dumbledore, practically shooing him out of the room.

"No, no, my dear Icarus, after you," he protested.

"No, Albus, after you," it was an order, but the Headmaster missed that, too.

"I couldn't possibly, old chap," he smiled. "You are a guest here! After you."

"I won't have that, it's your school, after you!"

"No…"

There was a shrill sound from the wardrobe which Lucius recognised as a strangled miaow and quickly tried to cover with a groan.

"What was tha…?" Dumbledore began, turning back to the bedroom. Lucius half-closed his eyes and stumbled against him.

"Ooh, excuse me, Sir, I feel rather peculiar," he whimpered.

"To the hospital wing!" cried Icarus, seizing Lucius around the waist with one arm, Dumbledore with the other and striding off down the corridor.

…….

Madam Pomfrey didn't believe him for one second. It seemed that now and then, a lust-fuelled boy would still risk the wrath of Professors McGonagall and Wycan by feigning illness to be close to the lovely young mediwitch. Lucius had not really helped himself on this occasion by implying that he had better taste.

Only when she threatened to take his temperature somewhere other than his mouth did he finally admit defeat and leave, grateful at least that his father and Dumbledore had waited outside for him, rather than coming in to observe. As he made his way to the waiting area, his gratitude tripled when he saw that his father had managed to lose the Headmaster too. Things were finally beginning to calm down.

"Father," he said.

"Lucius," Icarus stood and fixed him with another probing stare. Glancing around for eavesdroppers, he lowered his voice. "Are you going to tell me the name of your new _friend_?"

"Friend?" asked Lucius in genuine puzzlement.

"Your closet companion," he deadpanned.

Exactly on cue, the infirmary door swung open and Severus stalked in, his cloak and uniform in tatters, face and hands an oozing mess of criss-crossing red clawmarks and with a very unpleasant swollen bite mark on the end of his hooked nose.

"Oh!" Lucius clapped a hand to his mouth.

"Merlin's teeth!" hissed Icarus.

"You again?!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey, appearing out of nowhere, probably thanks to some warding-alert system on the door. She peeled off the cloak and began to fuss at him. He scowled and complained but did not try to look at Lucius. It took all of Lucius' strength to turn around and leave him there, alone and in such pain, but remained conscious of his father's suspicious nature. Snape must have been shredded by the demon cat while trying to keep the affair secret – it would do no good to waste the sacrifice by behaving sentimentally and blowing their cover now.

On his way out, he noticed the name inside the ruined blue cloak, lying discarded on the floor and fit only for the rubbish bin. He was still upset that Severus had been injured – again – but he felt a small measure of comfort when he read: J.J. Potter. The brat had managed to get one over on his enemies even while being attacked by a ferocious creature. Once again he found himself admiring such skilful sneakery. Had Lucius been alone, he would have acquired the cloak for future nefarious purposes. As things stood, he was not yet out of danger.

The Malfoys walked out into the corridor and Icarus refused to let the matter drop.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Sir?" replied Lucius.

"The girl! Who is she?" He sounded irritated, so Lucius stayed on his guard.

"A wise wizard once said that a gentleman never tells," he quoted, with a small twitch of the lips. Icarus, recognising his own advice back when his son had first hit puberty, gave a snort and finally admitted defeat.

"Very well. I assume you were careful?" his tone suggested that Lucius bloody well should have been.

"I'm always careful," said Lucius, wishing it were true. Associating with a boy like Snape, he was learning fast about the need to be very careful indeed.

Icarus grunted.

In honour of the rare book's safe return, Dumbledore had suggested that Mr Malfoy take his son for afternoon tea in Hogsmeade. Lucius was glad of the fresh air as they took the brisk walk down to Madam Puddifoot's. The adrenaline which had just saved their bacon had now vanished completely, and the young man felt so exhausted after his recent exertions that he did a very unwise thing. He failed to pay sufficient attention to what his father was saying. Puddifoot brought out cucumber sandwiches, scones, jam and a rather vulgar pink teapot and Lucius helped himself, making vaugely interested sounds here and there as the tone of Icarus' narrative seemed to demand some input.

He hoped Severus was all right. The scratches would heal, of course, but he had been heartbroken about the upcoming change in their relationship. Despite Snape's protests that once out of school he would have better things to think about than a scruffy mixed-race swot, he still refused to entertain the idea that this was The End. He was infatuated with the boy, pure and simple. Surely no one he would meet in the adult wizarding world could be such a fascinating bundle of contradictions. Ugly but beautiful. A genius but rather backward about some things. Savage but tender. Lucius felt the familiar glow creeping from his stomach up to his chest and face as he silently listed all the brat's personality traits, so enjoying his love for Severus that he failed to notice the scowl forming on his father's face.

Icarus continued speaking in the same monotone.

"…which will take place at around this time next year, all being well, but that won't happen in the usual way because you'll be married by then." He stopped and cocked his head on one side.

Lucius said: "Mm-hm," and bit into his scone, re-living the sight of Severus sitting on his bed, looking tasty and ready for ravishing and…and…

He choked.

"_Married_?!"

"Aha," beamed Icarus, "So you're not completely befuddled, then?"

Coughing, Lucius set down the rest of the jammy scone and dabbed at his face and hands with a napkin.

"I'm sorry, Father," he said quietly. "I was telling the truth about being worried about NEWTs. I was just thinking about my Potions practical."

"Hogwash," scoffed Icarus, managing to convey scorn through the innocuous act of adding milk to his tea. Lucius subconsciously made a note to learn how to do that. "You have the nerve to lie to me, sitting there, blushing like love-sick little girl! Potions, my foot! You're just off kilter because you're suffering from coitus interruptus!"

"You are wrong, Father," he drew himself up, girded with the knowledge that he was no longer a child in the eyes of the law, would soon cease to be a schoolboy and was heartily sick of having been oppressed and harangued by the man sitting opposite him for his entire life. The fact that he was lying made no difference whatsoever. He gave Icarus a cold stare, right into the eyes. "I have been studying."

"I don't understand where this bizarre bourgeois obsession with examination results has come from. It's nothing you've learned from me!" There was a degree of consternation in his voice, which made Lucius proud. He had finally managed to break his father's stride! Encouraged, he continued.

"Because all I really need to succeed in this life is the Malfoy name?" he asked haughtily. Icarus put down his cup a little too suddenly and slopped a small amount of tea into the saucer.

"Yes," he hissed, with dangerous irritation. "It was enough for me."

"My apologies, Father, but I regret that is not enough for me," said Lucius calmly, inwardly rejoicing that after all this time, he finally had the old man on the defensive. He improvised coolly. "I will go out into the world with everyone knowing that I am better bred, wealthier and more handsome than just about every other wizard in this country. The world and I know that these are gifts I received due to a lucky accident of birth. When the half-bloods and the self-made people scoff at my good fortune, I will show them the things I have achieved for myself. A full set of 'O' grade NEWTs, legal and proven in a sneak-proof environment is not something which can be bequeathed by one's rich aunts. I will demonstrate my superiority on _every _playing field." This announcement flowed so smoothly that Lucius wondered if he had been subconsciously believing it for some years. He was very pleased with the way he had expressed himself, allowing a little preen at having successfully argued with his father for the very first time.

The older man stared into the distance as he digested this, then turned back with a sad half-smile.

"I am mortified that you care what your inferiors think of you," he said.

Luicus took another bite of his scone, cursing silently. Would he never get the last word in an altercation with Icarus Malfoy?

"What were you saying about my marriage, Sir?" he asked glumly.

Having learned his lesson about daydreaming, Lucius hung on every word this time and was subsequently very glad he had. It was a story worth listening to.

It was not yet public knowledge (naturally, Malfoys have their sources) that the eldest of Cygnus Black's daughters had just eloped with a muggle. Lucius had to admit to being not as surprised as he could have been – while Bellatrix was the artful sister and Narcissa the beautiful one, Andromeda had always been unconventional in her tastes, her friendships and even her dress. Icarus appeared to be scandalised and delighted in equal measure.

"Cygnus and Druella only have themselves to blame. What were they thinking, allowing an impressionable young slip of a girl to meet muggles anyhow? Your mother hadn't seen a live one until long after you were born. Made her feel quite ill, she said, not a sight at all suitable for a lady!"

Capitalising on the Blacks' disgrace, Icarus would wait until he heard the news from an official source, then publicly dissolve the long-standing betrothal between Lucius and Narcissa, while Henry Lestrange ended the proposed union between Rodolphus and Bellatrix.

"Which will be a perfectly understandable response to this tasteless development, for who in their right mind would associate with such a family?!" he rubbed his hands together and outlined his cunning plan.

In public, Icarus would appear to be so revolted by the taint to the Blacks' pure blood, that he would soon have them ostracised from society. The other branch of the family, Orion and Walburga, were already halfway there since producing that utter disgrace to wizardkind, Sirius Black. With a little political manoeuvring from himself and Lestrange, the younger Black sisters would soon become unmarriagable, too steeped in Andromeda's shame to attract the kind of man for whom they had been bred. Panicking and desperate, Cygnus would begin to offer all manner of bribes and dowries as inducements to marry Bellatrix and Narcissa – respectability being much more valuable than gold in his world. Icarus and Lestrange would wait until the amount was large enough to ruin Cygnus, then magnanimously relent and allow their sons to marrying the sisters, ending their social exile but effectively beggaring Cygnus in the process.

"What a cruel plan!" exclaimed Lucius, torn between horror and admiration.

"Nothing about this was planned, son. We are merely capitalising on a fortuitous circumstance," cackled Icarus. "You get to marry the blonde one as expected, but now with a dowry fit for a prince. Meanwhile I get the joy of kicking Black in the teeth."

"I'm not sure I want a pauper for a father-in-law," Lucius mused.

"I'll not leave him out on the street," Icarus reasoned. "They can keep the house and enough to live moderately on. And his brother will help out where necessary, though Orion will need a fair bit to leave to his boys. Serves Cygnus right."

"What for?" asked the future bridegroom, deciding to hatch his own plot to get Sirius completely disinherited and disowned forever. "I mean, you've never liked Cygnus, but…"

"We were at school together," said Icarus, pursing his lips in a way which suggested the end of the conversation.

Lucius filed the information away for later. Perhaps the Bloody Baron might have some more of his fascinating facts to shed some light on the matter.

"So I am to wed Narcissa as soon as Cygnus coughs up the right amount?" he sighed. He had nothing against the girl, it was just that Severus was going to have an absolute fit when he found out, and it didn't look as though the blasted cat was going to provide much friendly support. The poor boy was having a rough time of it lately.

"Yes, as quickly as possible, to joyfully cement the Blacks' return to respectability, if not financial comfort. We don't want them to be pariahs forever, not with them so closely linked to us. I anticipate the whole affair taking about six months. The girl will leave school. No use in staying at Hogwarts and having her pretty little head muddled by all that education. It makes them argumentative, you know, not what a man needs in a wife."

And that appeared to be that. Lucius had been fast-tracked into his future by Andromeda Black's irresponsible actions, and judging by the determined set of his father's jaw, protesting against his lot would do no good.

And Severus… Lucius swallowed and ground his teeth together. He would _not_ lose Severus over this new scheme. He would uphold the Malfoy name by honouring the expedient teenage marriage and being a respectful husband to Narcissa, but he would be damned before he gave up the brat. If anyone had the nerve to contradict him – well, they would learn exactly how like a Malfoy Lucius could behave.

Icarus was now standing at the counter, effortlessly charming Madam Puddifoot as he paid the bill and slid coins into the tips box, garish and pink as the rest of the décor.

"Needless to say, you're not to breathe a word of this discussion to anyone," he instructed as they left the teashop and crossed the village.

"Naturally," sighed Lucius.

"You must be seen to give the appropriate reactions, when the time comes."

"Certainly," he agreed.

"And you must be wary of your interactions with Narcissa until the news breaks. The Blacks must not suspect that we already know."

"Indeed."

"Oh, and Lucius?" Icarus stopped and smiled at his son.

"Yes, Father?" he returned the smile.

"If you ever steal anything from my study again, I will give you first-hand experience of the effects of the most potent poisons listed in that blasted book," he was still smiling amicably.

Lucius forced his lips to keep smiling, wondering for a second if his face was going to crack as his pulse hammered like a tom-tom through his ears, trying to force his eyeballs out of his head.

"Do you understand me, boy?" his father asked in a jolly voice, but there was blue murder in his eyes. Still grinning like a skull, Lucius nodded enthusiastically, recovering enough to begin silently plotting some serious revenge on the young blackmailer for putting him through this. That kid was going to suffer more than anyone had suffered in the history of human suffering for trying to get one over on Luicus Malfoy. That kid was about to learn what happened when one played with fire. That kid was going to _burn_. He kept smiling.

"Good boy," said Icarus, patting him on the head.

……..

So, the long-awaited Day of Vengeance is almost upon whichever marauder was responsible (I know most of you have already guessed, it wasn't that hard), and Lucius cannot escape his gymslip wedding to Narcissa, nor the wrath of young Snape when he finds out, despite any promises to cross his fingers when reciting the 'forsaking all other' vow.

Thanks for reading again! That was a decent interval for an update, for once. Thank you for all your suggestions regarding the name of the cat – I am still interested in any apt, daft or original names before making the decision!

Reminder: this fic was begun back in the days before we knew the name Abraxas, so in the interests of continuity I have kept Lucius' father as Icarus. Ditto Snape's parentage, my OC Prof. Wycan Head of Slytherin and Potions Mistress, and all the other things which canon-shafted this story.

Note: I've been using the official Black Family Tree (see HP Lexicon, amongst other sources). I differ by writing Andromeda as the eldest of the sisters, though she seems to be the middle one on the tapestry, because I had my Bellatrix and Narcissa as being still at school and Andromeda having already left.

Thanks x


	13. Revelations

Warning for bad language again! Sorry, I just don't think our future Death Eaters ever said 'Fiddlesticks'.

…….

The walk back to Hogwarts was not the most enjoyable moment in Lucius' young life.

The sun was shining and the Scottish scenery was looking particularly glorious, but knowing that despite all his careful plotting, his father had somehow found out exactly who had been responsible for stealing the book of poisons took the edge off all that. He must have been observed in Knockturn Alley, it was the only explanation. He made a mental note to be more wary of prying eyes in future. He had been foolish to imagine that no one had seen him just because he saw no one.

A small group of swallows whizzed wildly through the air above his head, chattering excitedly as they arrived for their summer holiday, all the way from their winter home in Africa. Lucius was conscious of the warmer weather heralding the beginning of the end of his time at school and the dawn of his life as an adult. The sickeningly poetic thought struck him that next time the swallows returned here, Lucius would be far away, married and living in some small yet probably quite beautiful house in the South of England, waiting for his father to die so that he could inherit the Manor.

Severus would still be here though. Lucius felt wretched as he remembered the boy's misery at being left behind while the one he loved moved on to live and laugh without him. He had been pessimistic about being able to continue their relationship once the older boy had left, but Lucius was determined to try. The thought of abandoning him to be pawed at by that pathetic Gryffindor with the silly name and the thumping great crush made Lucius peevish. He clenched his fists. Severus was his! It was about time he dealt with that dreadful gang of thugs, once and for all.

"Thank you for tea, Father. You're a busy man, there is no need to walk me all the way back. I can make it from here perfectly well alone," he suggested, not wanting to spend any longer with Icarus than was absolutely necessary. He wanted to speak to Severus, sulk about the marriage plot and devise something truly horrible for Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Bougainvillea. It was going to be a busy afternoon.

"How considerate of you, Lucius," smiled Icarus. "I'm afraid I must see you safely back to the school. It was kind of Dumbledore to bend the rules and allow me to take you out during term-time, I wouldn't dream of getting him into trouble by allowing anything unfortunate to happen to you on the way back. I daresay you've been too young to notice before, but dark forces are beginning to stir in our cosy little world."

"What do you mean?" Lucius was confused enough to ask, disregarding the sting of wounded pride at being derided as immature.

"I may be wrong, of course," Icarus was looking at the horizon now, with a grim expression. "But I've seen these things happen before. Life had been very quiet of late, and now things are beginning to brew. This is another reason why I want you safely married before these rumblings turn into full-scale quakes. I want you settled and in a good position to succeed in case anything should happen to me. Perhaps I was unwise to deride your wish for academic recognition - the more twigs a man has to his broom the better."

Forgetting to enjoy the rare pleasure of hearing his father almost admit that he was wrong, Lucius felt a stab of panic at the strange and foreboding tone of what he heard. Icarus was sounding like a false seer at a Mayday fair, and Lucius found he didn't like it.

"What rumblings?" he asked.

"One hears rumours," he replied evasively. "Which is partly why I was so horrified when the manuscript went missing. That kind of powerful old knowledge in the wrong hands…well, it would not be very amusing. Then I remembered that among the security wards on my safe were ones which would cause instantaneous death if anyone but a Malfoy tried to breach them. So I knew it was you all along."

_Well, fuck me, _thought Lucius. The old man had been having fun torturing him with newspaper articles and Ministry investigations, when all the time he had known his own son was the culprit. And how ironic that Snape's quick lie to the Gryffindors about the book being protected by a family-related curse was actually not far from the truth. He swung round to face his father, conscious of his own guilt but more furious at being played for a fool.

"You...!" he began, but Icarus was already back to his familiar smirking self.

"Ah, here we are! Just up these steps now and you will be safely in the entrance hall," he was irritatingly cheerful.

"You knew…!" Lucius tried again as they mounted the steps.

"That was an enjoyable tea, wasn't it, son?" he grinned. "I hope you will enjoy the rest of your _studying_ for the exams."

"Mnnngrh," snarled Lucius, fighting for his self-control, when a singsong voice echoing behind them interrupted the fledgling argument before it could become really unpleasant.

"Luscious Lucy!" trilled Peeves. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh bollocks," said Lucius, then started as he realised that his father had said the same thing at the same moment.

"OooooOOOHHH! It's Icky!" He shrieked. A group of jumpy-looking Hufflepuffs coming down the staircase stared at the disturbance.

"Bugger off, Peeves," hissed Icarus.

"Sticky Icky!" the poltergeist screamed in delight. "Haven't seen you for years! Aren't you a bit big for school now, Stickyrus?"

"Go away!" Lucius tried to shoo him off, before he began making rude gestures or any more comments about lethal explosions or homosexuality, but to no avail. He ought to have known better than to try and order Peeves around. The Hufflepuffs let their mouths fall open as they goggled.

"Roll up! Roll up!" Peeves produced a spectral hand-rattle from thin air and began bellowing like a foghorn. "Come and see that last of the Malfoys! A dying breed, Ladies and Jellyspoons! Once Lovely Lucy is gone, there will be no more! Hurry, hurry, while stocks still last!"

"Last of the…?" Icarus looked confused. "What on earth are you blathering about? My son will marry and produce lots of fine Malfoy heirs!"

"Marry? Him?" cackled Peeves, screwing his face up at Lucius. "Well, laws do change, I suppose, but you'll need a _very_ clever potion to make any babies by doing what Juicy Lucy likes to do!"

Lucius wished he hadn't eaten so many scones. He was feeling decidedly ill again.

"What?" snapped Icarus. "You must have grown more imbecilic over the years! I can't understand a word you're saying!" Undeterred, Peeves cackled again and began to sing.

"_Juicy Lucy, Pudding and Pie, kissed a boy and made him cry!"_

"_Peeves!"_ barked the voice of the Baron, suddenly materialising through the floor and making everyone jump. The Hufflepuffs squealed and scattered. Peeves stopped laughing and calmed down.

"Yesh, Baron?" he lisped, ambitiously trying to look innocent.

"Remove yourself," he commanded, with a positively diabolical glare.

"Righty-ho, I will do so _gaily,_" smiled Peeves. "Bye-bye, endangered Malfoys. Luscious, duckie, do give Peevesie's regards to your friend _Dorothy_."

Though Icarus kept his ear to the ground in as many areas as possible, Lucius was profoundly grateful at that moment that his grasp of slang and popular culture was almost nil.

"Dorothy?" Icarus frowned. "Is that the girl?"

"Eh?" said Lucius.

"The one from earlier," he muttered. "In the cupboard?"

"No," Lucius stifled a giggle and turned it into a cough. "Good afternoon, Baron."

"Master Lucius, Master de Malfoy," he greeted them both with a low bow, sweeping off his plumed hat.

"My Lord Baron," Icarus bowed in his turn. "So good to see you. My thanks for sparing me another encounter with that most pointless poltergeist."

"Ah, Master de Malfoy, to every creature cometh the hour where he is of use," he gave Luicus a piercing, sideways look before turning back to his father. "What do you here, sir? 'Tis a pretty while since I did greet you last within these fair halls."

"Indeed!" Icarus chuckled. "I merely stopped by to chat to my son. Sadly I have to be going right away. I hope the afterlife is still suiting you?"

The baron grew wistful and his features twisted into a grimace, making him look even more startling than usual as the translucent blood poured onto the floor.

"This fearful curse which does bind me, miserable captive, in incarceration eternal, being like as to neither warméd flesh nor to worm-fodder, is not comprehended by the luck-riven mortal with much facility."

"No, I suppose not," admitted Icarus.

"Yet even unto a formless spirit, the world will yet afford a fleeting glimpse of pleasure, upon occasion," he adjusted his hat and smiled again.

"Why, what are you up to, sir?" asked Icarus, conspiratorially.

"Me maketh merry distraction in the lair of the badgers, a-sporting with my murderer!" he rubbed his hands together and assumed a worryingly evil expression and Luicus realised why the Hufflepuffs had looked so nervy.

"Ah, tormenting the Friar again? Jolly good!" nodded Icarus.

"Wait," Luicus stared. "What? You were murdered by the _Fat Friar?!"_

"Aye," sighed the Bloody Baron. "Humphrey Prewett-Smith, Earl of…of…well, I do not dare utter it, fearsome word! - but suffice to know it is a Scottish place. Thus was he titled ere your fair ancestor, the Lady Matilda, made his corpulent hands the instruments of my end, and Brother Tristan the Remorseful after his rue did drive him to livelong penitence."

Lucius digested yet another shock revelation with some difficulty.

"Killed by a Hufflepuff? That's dreadful, Baron!" he exclaimed.

"Perchance so, yet I was full in my cups and hence not sensible to much," he raised his hand to his neck reflexively, then smirked. "Yet for the sake of his misdeed is he condemned to remain here, under the very pale imprint of what was once my nose, where I may hound his sinful soul until the stars fall from the sky and the pale moon turns to blood."

"Damned right," Icarus nodded fervently. "What did he expect when he got involved with a de Malfoy? You can tell even from her portrait in the upper gallery that Matilda was a woman with ambition, a dozen times sharper than a bumbling old butterball like him, Earl or no Earl."

"Yes," sighed the Baron, getting a lovelorn and rather vacant expression. "Forget ye not, sirs, that men will ever be fools for love."

…….

Lucius was inclined to agree with him as he tramped all over the grounds in the warm May sunshine, searching every nook and cranny - of which the castle had several thousand - trying to find Snape. He knew that he ought to be revising, practising his reactions to the various scandals about to explode concerning the Black family or doing something else useful towards his future, not running around after a lachrymally challenged fourteen year old with a flair for the melodramatic.

But Love, that seriously twisted bitch, had raised her interfering head and now the only thing that mattered was finding the boy and trying to impress upon him once again, just how deeply Lucius cared about him.

It was really most inconvenient.

He marched up to a group of Ravenclaws, lying on a picnic blanket as they debated a piece of runic translation, probably preparing for OWLs. One of them had the audacity to demand his opinion, as a senior pupil, on the inscription in exchange for revealing information on the whereabouts of Severus. Lucius was irked. Evidently, he had been spending far too much time canoodling with the brat if a gaggle of ravens two years his junior thought they could strike a bargain with a Malfoy. He needed to put in some time and effort working on his public image for his remaining time at Hogwarts. For the moment, however, he was in no position to argue, so learned that Snape had last been seen skulking in the direction of the forest in the company of a cat-shaped demon, shortly after the insolent fifth years learned a new, and as it happens entirely fabricated, nuance of the meaning of Thurisaz.

Lucius reflected that they had only themselves to blame if they fluffed an exam question because of what he had told them. It was a lesson from the School of Life. Never trust a Slytherin, especially one whom you have recently vexed.

It being such a delightful afternoon, there were a lot of people milling around, so Lucius bent his steps towards the furthest entrance to the forest, where it dipped behind a small hill and out of sight of the throngs of sun-worshippers. Hagrid was lumbering around nearby, playing noisily with his huge dog and its cluster of big, ill-coordinated pups. Lucius frowned as he saw some of that disgusting Gryffindor quartet rolling around on the floor, throwing sticks or shrieking as they were slobbered within an inch of their lives. He checked to make sure the groundskeeper's full attention was occupied with the artless buffoonery, then dashed into the trees.

It took less than half a minute's walking for the canopy to become too dense for daylight to penetrate. He slowed down to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom, shivering as he remembered his last visit to this place – running for dear life from a werewolf with a concussed Severus and the ghosts. He doubted he would ever again be able to find the hollow tree containing the secret passage to the laundry-chute which had saved them, but he could do some research. It might come in useful for future clandestine meetings with Severus.

If Severus had come into the forest this way, then he must have taken the path. Despite his almost manic desire for the acquisition of knowledge, the brat wasn't fool enough to go hacking his way into brambles or devil's snare or whatever else was sprawling thornily over the forest floor. There was only one track through the undergrowth that Lucius could see, so, making sure all six senses were fully alert, he took it.

The path was obviously not very well used. Lucius found himself scrambling over fallen branches, becoming entangled in bracken and occasionally having to avoid the pungent dung of some large or possibly very unwell creature. After just ten minutes he was exhausted and feeling rather battered, so paused to catch his breath.

There was a small sound ahead of him.

Instantly, his wand was in his hand and he crouched down, only too aware that in this place, homo sapiens was a good few links from the top of the food chain. The silence was oppressive as he hid, not even the birds wanted to sing in this dark and dangerous place. But something else did. Lucius straightened up as he heard someone humming. Feeling sure that nothing making such a tuneless din would be capable of partaking of pureblooded wizard for afternoon tea, he cautiously approached the sound.

Could it be Severus? He dismissed the thought as soon as it arrived, certain that the intense boy would not be singing such a jaunty ditty to himself, even if he believed he was unobserved. A sudden panic flooded through Lucius – what if Severus had arranged to meet that horrid little Dandelion boy in secret. Then he dismissed that thought too – the sickly little thing had been out on the lawn, being mauled by Killer and her litter of mongrels, along with Black and Potter.

The mysterious hummer came into view. Definitely not Severus. A fat little bottom was sticking up in the air, as its owner knelt on the ground, plucking at some kind of vegetation and putting it into a bag. Lucius was now close enough to be able to hear the words.

"… _those kids were fast as lightening, ooh, hoo-hah! Something something…little bit frightening, ooh, hoo-hah! But they moved with expert timing…ooh, hoo-_ ARGH!"

The last exclamation was a result of being seized violently around the neck by Lucius.

"Malfoy!" he squeaked.

"Pettigrew," purred the Head Boy. "I've been looking forward to having a little chat with you."

"Really?" the pudgy kid gave a wan smile. If he was attempting to look calm and collected, it wasn't working. He began to squirm and sweat in Lucius' grasp.

"Really, really," said Lucius. He smiled. Finally, things were beginning to go his way.

He raised his wand level with Peter Pettigrew's watery, sly blackmailing eyes, getting ready to show the little toad exactly what happened when you stole ancient books from your social superiors, spied on them, then wrote unpleasant little notes.

Oh, Merlin. Lucius was going to enjoy this.

…….

AN: I think most people guessed! It wasn't terribly hard a mystery to solve, really.

- The cat will get her name next time! Thanks for all your suggestions.

- Wormtail is singing 'Kung Fu Fighting', in case you were wondering. Not mine, of course, Carl Douglas'.

- Humphrey Prewett-Smith, forced by the woman he loved to commit a murder, for which he never forgave himself. Earl of…? (Sorry Bill! And sorry to the Scottish aristocracy for messing around and being highly inaccurate with their titles.)

- Friends of Dorothy – term for homosexual men, to do with an alleged fondness of the species for Judy Garland. Not sure how Peeves knows this, but he probably picks up all sorts of language which he can use for teasing people.

Thanks for reading x


	14. Closing Remarks

Author's Notes: Finally, here's the last part of this wretched fic, which is now over two years old! My profound gratitude to everyone who's stayed with me for all this time - you deserve better. Again, apologies for delays in posting, and for the things which are inconsistent with what we learned from Book Six.

Warning: foul language and yummy slash.

Thank you all so much for the varied and brilliant suggestions for the cat's name! There were some really interesting ideas and I'm very grateful that so many people took the time to think about it.

Shortlisted were Iniquity (thanks Stephenaux), Dalek (thanks Risi), Draco (Angeltalion, I laughed out loud!), but in the end I went with one of Kyer's…

…….

"_Pettigrew," purred the Head Boy. "I've been looking forward to having a little chat with you."_

"_Really?" the pudgy kid gave a wan smile. If he was attempting to look calm and collected, it wasn't working. He began to squirm and sweat in Lucius' grasp._

"_Really, really," said Lucius. He smiled. Finally, things were beginning to go his way._

_He raised his wand level with Peter Pettigrew's watery, sly blackmailing eyes, getting ready to show the little toad exactly what happened when you stole ancient books from your social superiors, spied on them, then wrote unpleasant little notes._

_Oh, Merlin. Lucius was going to enjoy this._

…….

Nothing could have prepared Lucius for what happened next.

Pettigrew had been wriggling and panicking as Lucius threatened him, looking so pathetic that his captor was confident that there was no way his prey could escape now. However, before he had begun to cast the first curse, Pettigrew _melted_.

Lucius stepped back in horror as the face and body in front of him shrank, changing colour and texture all the while. The Gryffindor became narrower and tinier so quickly that by the time Lucius had managed to recognise the sudden shape-shift for what it was, the small brown rat had scampered up the path and disappeared into the forest gloom.

Too shocked to even pursue the boy, no, the creature, who had caused him so much difficulty, Lucius stood motionless, marvelling that someone so young and apparently hopeless could master such a fucking fantastic bit of magic. Everyone knew from their first ever transfiguration lesson that McMog could turn into a cat at will, but none of the pupils of Lucius' acquaintance had ever tried to exploit this highly useful skill for their own ends. He got no farther than this, as his reverie was interrupted by the sound of Severus' voice at close range.

Remembering the reason why he had hauled himself all the way out there, he turned in the direction of his love just in time to hear him say.

"Well done, Catastrophe! You caught it! You can eat what you want but leave me the tail, it will be a useful ingredient."

"NO!" Lucius bellowed in horror, dashing forwards. "Severus, no! Stop it!"

The brat was staring at him in consternation, as the ugly little cat grappled with a squirming rat in the dark mulch in between two huge tree roots.

"Stop the cat! The rat's Pettigrew - he's an Animagus! If he dies we'll be in so much trouble!"

They fired off a battery of stunners until the struggle ceased and the motionless rat rippled, bulged and finally reverted to its natural form.

"Bloody hell!" gasped Snape, as Pettigrew materialised at his feet. He nudged the muddy and bleeding body with the toe of his boot rather gingerly, as though expecting him to vanish in a puff of smoke. "Whoever would have imagined!"

"That's how he knew about us," said Lucius grimly. "And the dead girl down in the secret room. He must have been one of the rats we caught to test the potion on."  
"What, in the cage?" Snape snorted. "Why didn't he change back and escape?"

Lucius shrugged. "Let's ask."

Once conscious, Pettigrew began to snivel and cringe, whining about the now-giant bite marks on the back of his neck. He soon realised that he could expect no sympathy from his audience, however, he subsided into merely pouting and muttering to himself.

"Couldn't change back, could I? Cage was too small. Would've got stuck in between shapes and that's horrid. Was going to wait until you picked me up, then was going to bite you and run away, but you blew the whole sodding place up, didn't you? Too busy…_doing things _to each other to pay attention to the cauldron. Nearly killed us all."

"You tried to blackmail me!" said Lucius, trying to gently infer menace without much apparent effort, as his father did. Pettigrew flinched slightly, which was somewhat gratifying.

"No, I didn't," he whined defensively. "I never asked you for any money."

"You just wrote us nasty letters," sneered Snape. "Which is perfectly all right and a noble and upright, Gryffindor course of action."

"Do you even know what happened to the rats down there?" the Animagus countered. "By the time I had regained consciousness from the toxic fumes your bloody explosion caused, I found I was buried under a pile of rubble with crushed ribs and covered in pieces of exploded rat. The door of the cage was embedded in my arm and some of that skeleton's teeth were caught in my robes," he broke off to rub a hand over his face and shudder. "And all because you," he nodded at Malfoy sullenly, "took time off from brewing that deadly potion to get down and dirty with that worthless greaseball Snape. It's disgusting!"

Severus and Lucius looked at each other, neither sure how they ought to react.

"We thought you were just a rat," said Severus quietly.

"I found the book once I'd dug my way towards the door. It looked important so I thought I could use it to get back at you," he mumbled. "Cause you some grief."

There was a long pause, during which the stunner on the cat wore off and it jerkily got to its feet, hissing suspiciously at Pettigrew. The puncture wounds on his neck were now bleeding alarmingly freely, so Severus stepped up and began to cast some of the healing charms he had been forced to teach himself after years of fights with Foul Foursome. Pettigrew allowed this, but bared his teeth resentfully.

"Be careful, you freak," he snorted.

"You turn yourself into a rat to avoid what you've rightfully got coming to you, and you have the cheek to call _Severus_ a freak?!" gasped Lucius, with a laugh. "I don't understand you lot at all. Why on earth do you and your cohorts hate him so much?"

"Not everyone hates him," the Gryffindor said snidely, then bit his lip as though he hadn't meant to let anything slip.

"Oh yes, you're right, the Begonia boy is in love with him," Lucius remembered.

"Lupin," Snape corrected automatically.

They almost took a step backwards when the Pettigrew's face instantly transformed into an expression of such pure violent hatred that he looked ready to commit murder.

"I don't know what revolting dark magic you've cast on him, Snape, to make him fall for you, but you're going to pay for it!" he spat, struggling to stand. He made an absurd picture, covered in blood and mud in the middle of the forest, clenching his fists and his chubby schoolboy's face scarlet with fury. At his insinuation, Lucius glanced sharply at his lover.

"I haven't done anything!" protested Snape. "Why on earth would I want that pathetic little sap following me around when I've got…" He trailed off, trying to be discreet, then, remembering that all those present were in on the secret, stuck out his chin and continued defiantly. "When I've got the most handsome and intelligent person in the school in love with me."

Lucius beamed to hear him say the words with no upsets or dramatics. Severus smiled softly at him, flushing a delicate shade of pink as they gazed at each other tenderly. The moment was shattered by a movement from Pettigrew, then a flash of magic as Snape intercepted the Animagus' clumsy attempt to punch him.

"Don't you dare call Remus a sap!" Pettigrew squealed, having been thrown onto the floor once more. "He's a kind, sweet and wonderful person!"

The Slytherins stared.

"You love him," Severus concluded. Pettigrew grimaced with anger but said nothing, turning away to try and regain some control.

"And while he's mooning around after Severus, he won't even look twice at you…" Lucius continued, piecing together the whole story when no denial was forthcoming.

"…so you chose an extra opportunity to take revenge on me, by harassing Lucius and I about our relationship," Severus took up the narrative.

"And I imagine you encourage Black and Potter in their juvenile bullying games, too," added Malfoy, with distaste. "You really are a thoroughly loathsome individual."

Pure physical torture would not be sufficient retribution in this case, Luicus decided. After a brief conference with Snape, during which Pettigrew and the cat both tried to show as much hatred for each other as they possibly could, Lucius forced their adversary to touch wand-tips with him and incanted the rites of Vassal's Favour. Evoking the ancient spell to demand a service at a time of the caster's choosing meant that Pettigrew could be pressed into any useful act at any time. Allying with a cunning and despicable person so close to young wizards with a promising future of power and influence could only be an asset to Lucius' arsenal - another twig to his broomstick, as Icarus had put it. There would be conflict with those particular Gryffindors outside the school gates in the years to come, Lucius was absolutely certain, and once his prefect's badge no longer gave him authority over them, he would need a way of making sure that he came out on top. What better way to manage the little shits than by enslaving on of their own? There was no need to rush things, however. Vassal's Favour was an important hold over a person. It ought not to be wasted, nor entered into lightly.

Pettigrew looked sick to the stomach as he limped away, knowing himself to be defeated, and Lucius could not resist a smirk at the idea of this pathetic little child thinking himself intelligent enough to best two of Salazar's finest.

He led Severus to a small clearing, where a few beams of light managed to penetrate the trees, and they both sat down for serious discussions.

"You accept that I love you, then?" the older boy asked anxiously. "Without running and hiding or having hysterics?"

"Yes," snapped Snape, apparently irritated at being reminded of his earlier flighty behaviour.

"Good," Lucius leaned over and kissed the scowling face, enjoying the moment of calm before everything got ruined again. "Because my father gave me a piece of unpleasant news over tea this afternoon."

It went down much better than Lucius had dared hope. Snape's natural tendency to look on the bleak side of life meant that he had imagined the wedding happening sooner rather than later, so there was just the matter of misery and resentment, rather than any explosions or yelling. He even made no attempt to contradict Lucius' promises of continuing their affair after the marriage, though a slight furrowing of the dark brow gave Lucius cause for concern.

When several minutes of promises and persuasion had no effect on the brat's despondent demeanour, Lucius resorted to the time-honoured argument of actions speaking louder than words, pulling Severus into his lap and kissing him. The usual feeling of intoxicating arousal swept over Lucius as Severus returned his attentions with a kind of desperate fervour, clinging to him with all the strength in his arms and legs and devouring his mouth as though his life depended on it.

Lying sated among the fallen branches and clumps of moss on the ground a short while later, Lucius was disconcerted to find that they were being watched. The cat was observing their tangled heap of limbs and robes with great interest, the permanent sneer resulting from her twisted lip even more disconcerting when one was sprawled outdoors, covered in come and showing one's bare bottom to the world. His afterglow fading rapidly under such scrutiny, Lucius sat up and rearranged himself.

"Did I hear you correctly earlier, love?" he asked the dozing Snape. "You have named the beast 'Catastrophe'?"

"Mmm," nodded the boy, sleepily running his hands through his hair and plucking out a stray leaf.

"That's a dreadful pun," he chided, with a smile.

"But apt," argued Snape cheerfully. "It leaves a trail of destruction wherever it goes." Recalling the state of his room just after he presented the cat to Severus, Lucius had to agree.

They made their way back to the castle, stopping every now and then for a languid kiss in the privacy of the trees, careful to keep an eye out in case Pettigrew was lurking anywhere, trying to have the last word. Lucius in particular was careful to make sure he never underestimated the kid again. Catastrophe prowled behind them, keen to have another go at the strange rodent which had not played fair after she had been clever enough to catch it. Emerging onto the secluded part of the school lawns, the first people they saw were Potter and Lupin, strolling aimlessly along about a hundred yards away.

"Do you suppose Potter and Black know about Pettigrew's little crush?" asked Snape.

"I sincerely doubt it's something he brags about," smirked Lucius. A smaller shape bounded into view next to the two Gryffindors, jumping up at the taller boy, who laughed heartily and threw a stick. "I didn't know Potter kept a dog."

"He doesn't," frowned Snape. "They aren't allowed as familiars, it must be one of Hagrid's dog's pups."

"No, those mongrels are all brownish. This one is black, in fact, I think I've seen it somewhere before…"

The dog stiffened and stared in their direction, scenting the air. A few steps ahead of Snape, Catastrophe gave a growl.

"Oh, no," whispered Severus. Potter gave a whoop and laughed again. Geranium raised his hands to his face in horror as the dog began running towards them, its beady eyes fixed determinedly on the cat.

"Go on, Paddy!" called Potter encouragingly.

"No!" shrieked Geranium. "Stop it! Sss…Padfoot, don't!"

"Spadfoot?" echoed Lucius. "That's even more ridiculous than 'Catastrophe'."

Catastrophe refused to run, contenting herself with merely glaring and flicking her tail threateningly as the scruffy dog pounded towards her. Not sure what to do when the prey failed to flee, the mutt slowed down for the last few yards and cocked its head on one side. Catastrophe sneered. Lucius and Severus had drawn their wands in preparation, but it was all over very quickly.

"Woof?" went the dog, in confusion. He stuck his snout towards the cat for a curious sniff. With the speed of a striking cobra, a ginger and black paw swung out, five claws gouging into the assailant's wet black nose with painful accuracy. The dog gave a scream of pain and leaped into the air, before turning and fleeing back to Potter with its tail between its legs, yelping pitifully.

The Slytherins roared with laughter, clutching each other to stay upright as the tears rolled down their cheeks. Lucius swooped down and picked up the cat, congratulating her on a brilliant manoeuvre and secretly relieved that his gift to Severus was perhaps more useful than he had thought.

"You're perfect! Such an intelligent little thing!" he chortled at her, failing to notice the rapidly narrowing eyes, or the warning sound in the back of her throat. "You will look after my Severus for me when I leave, won't you?"

There was a moment's silence as she appeared to consider the request. Then she bit him.

…….

Back in Lucius' room, Snape was applying healing salve to the wound, looking more cheerful than he had in…well, ever. Malfoy noted grimly that it was the self-same lotion which the brat had applied to the scratches on his face back when Rachel Goldstein had showed her displeasure at being dumped after their rather forgettable tryst by the lake, before he had spotted the more fascinating side of Severus. Memories like that usually made young men huff about the sheer irrationality of females, but Lucius knew from experience, that boys were just as bad. Or _his_ boy was, at least.

"Did you mean it, about Lupin?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, well done!" exclaimed Snape. "You finally got it right!"

"What?"

"Lupin, not Foxglove, Pansy, Chrysanthemum or any of the others you've used in the past!"

"Oh, I don't care what he's called. He's a weedy little creep with a weedy name. What I need to know is whether you were telling the truth earlier on, in the forest. Are you really not interested in him?" Before falling for Severus, he would have hesitated before showing weakness to anyone by asking such question. But then, before Severus, he had seldom felt weak at all. He no longer minded acknowledging his softer, more insecure side - in private at least - it actually felt good to indulge it, rather than pretending that it didn't exist.

Snape corked the little bottle and sat next to him on the bed, staring at him with a thoughtful intensity.

"It really matters to you whether I intend to jump into bed with Lupin once you have left school, doesn't it?" he asked. Lucius swallowed.

"He fancies you," he pointed out, rather sulkily.

"People of all ages and genders fancy you," Snape countered ruefully.

"Well, they shan't get me!" exclaimed Lucius. "Just because someone considers me attractive, there's absolutely no reason to think I would sleep with them!"

Snape beamed and helped himself to a long, wet kiss on his lover's lips.

"Precisely," he whispered.

The sound of desperate hammering on the door made both of them start, bringing with it unpleasant recollections of their near-miss with Icarus and Dumbledore. Snape dived under the bed as an almost frantic Goyle tumbled in.

"Malfoy! Merlin! You'll never guess! Oh, wow!" in his excitement, he forgot to breathe and went red in the face for a second until Lucius slapped him hard on the back. "Urgh! Thanks! Wow, oh Merlin! You'll never guess what's happened!"

Lucius gave an involuntary sigh, knowing perfectly well what had happened, and realising that his adult life would begin in approximately ten seconds. He wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it. Instead, he gave Tiberius a serious frown to set in motion the complicated set of roles he would have to play over the next few months, if his father's plan was to succeed.

"You'd better tell me," he said. Goyle took a deep breath, his eyes shining with delight at having such amazing gossip.

"Andromeda Black has run off with a MUGGLE!" he yelled, then clapped his hand over his mouth as though such a filthy utterance should not be heard, even between friends in the privacy of the dungeons. Rosier appeared in the doorway, biting his nails. Lucius pretended to gape at him.

"Is this true?" he asked the smarter boy for confirmation.

"Seems to be. Frightfully sorry, Malf," he looked sympathetic, but his eyes shone with a sort of glee which made Lucius instantly wary. He must not forget that other people would develop their own agenda during the social upsets caused by the scandal. Who knew what plots other families as cunning as his own might hatch in order to seize opportunities which would otherwise not have been available. He narrowed his eyes as he remembered that Rosier had always been rather fond of Narcissa.

"Good grief," he said aloud, sinking into a chair as though stunned. "I think I need to be alone for a second. Do you mind, lads?" Rosier stared speculatively at him before grabbing Goyle and dragging him away. Lucius cast a silencing charm in case of earwiggers and dropped to the floor next to the bed.

Snape's baleful black eyes peered at him from under the valence.

"The end has just begun," he sneered, but with more sadness than venom.

"No," said Lucius. "We're just entering Phase Two, that's all."

"There's too much at stake for you to handle distractions. You will forget all about me while you concentrate on the Blacks," the younger boy murmured, his lower lip giving a worrying twitch.

"No," repeated Lucius. "I'd be a pretty poor Slytherin if I couldn't handle the scandal of the century at the same time as the love affair of the century."

"Is that what this is?" Severus managed a little smile, which Lucius returned immediately.

"Yes," he said, reaching a hand under the bed to cup the brat's cheek. "All the plots in the wizarding world couldn't come between us, Severus."

"You won't forget me?" he wavered, a hint of hope in his eyes at last.

"Not for a second," Lucius promised. "We've come through too much to let a little thing like my having to marry someone else get in the way!"

Severus wriggled out from under the bed and sat up, folding his arms across his chest and grimacing with resignation.

"I don't know why," he huffed, "But for some pathetic, irrational and utterly nonsensical reason, I think I believe you."

Lucius grinned, just as someone else began knocking on the door.

"_Malfoy!"_

"Oh, Merlin, can't they give us another minute?" he snapped in annoyance. "We're trying to have a deep and meaningful conversation here!"

_"Malfoy!!! Dumbledore wants you in his office RIGHT NOW!"_

"Go on, love," Severus kissed him on the cheek and pushed him away gently. "Go and take over the world. I shall be here when you get back."

_"Malfoy! It's urgent!!"_

"Do you promise?" asked Lucius.

"I promise," said Snape, sincerely.

_"Malfoy!?"_

As Lucius walked to the door, he turned back to look at Severus, sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a scintillating expression made up of equal parts annoyance and adoration.

"I love you," Lucius couldn't resist reminding him.

"_Malfoy! Please!"_

"Sod off," beamed Snape.

Lucius laughed out loud and opened the door.

THE END.

…….


End file.
